Orbit
by inelegantprose
Summary: "And there he was now, not an orphan, not harmed, blinking up at her and at their small, shining, improbable family: Ben, Ben, Ben." Leia's relationships and her sense of self are tested as she becomes a young wife and mother amidst a galaxy in chaos. Multi chapter post-ROTJ. There will be no Kylo here, folks.
1. Prologue

_As promised,_ welcome _to my ongoing piece about Han & Leia's earliest years as parents. I don't utilize the novels or comics, as I haven't read them. (Though I'm sure I've picked up things here & there.) The canon I'm following is only the films, plus the detail from Disney of Leia and Han having a baby nine whole months after Endor. _

_I'm calling & tagging their son as Ben for now, but this is absolutely a safe read for anyone who strongly dislikes TFA – sub in any name for Ben and the story will be identical._

Prologue

Her day went something like this:

"Hey, sweetheart, thought you were––"

"Captain Solo? Hi––"

"Carlist? What the – what're you doing on Leia's – is she okay? What's going on?"

"She's – well she's _fine_ , she's right here, but––"

"Well if she's right there put her on!"

"Princess – can you––?"

"Mm, ah – yes, sorry – _mm_ – one second––"

"Carlist, the fuck is going on––?"

"Hello dear – hi, I'm so sorry––"

"Kriff Leia, are you alright? The hell is––"

"I sort of – I stepped out of a meeting early, and Carlist followed me into the hall – you know how you think this sort of political thing is incredibly boring? Well, apparently your daughter agrees with you and thought it would be fun to make things a bit more _interesting_ -"

"Interesting how."

"Even though she's four weeks ahead of schedule – how quickly can you get over to medical, do you think?"

" _Interesting how."_

"Oh, you know what I mean, the pain from last night wasn't cramping and my water broke in the middle of a presentation – so I'll meet you at medical in a few… _Han_. Han?"

 _Han cleared his throat. "So uh, how pregnant are we talking here?" He'd been doing his best to keep his tone nonchalant; Leia could tell this without looking at him as she continued scrubbing the dishes. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to tell him over dinner, as all it had done was make the meal itself awkward and left the food untouched, but at least she could use the dishes to avoid discussion. Ah, avoidance – always at my rescue._

 _"It's not really something that's partial..." she hedged._

 _"No, like – how long–"_

 _"Oh. Oh, this is actually quite rich – it's the end of the first third, apparently."_

 _"That's pretty pregnant."_

 _"It's rich because it points to a... conception," she said delicately, "right around––"_

 _He let out a genuine, surprised laugh. "Ahh, then it's all your fault, you loved those little huts too much."_

 _Leia smiled a little to herself. "And being under the stars – it's not too late, though, if that's what you're asking. To not go through with it, I mean."_

 _His voice seemed genuinely neutral, curious: "Is that what you want?"_

 _So she followed his lead: "Honestly? I'm not...totally sure what I want." She looked into the sink, lips pursed: "How about you?"_

 _"Same here."_

 _She could feel him right behind her, looking at her, and sighed, turning to face him. "I – I don't know, for one thing I feel supremely young, way too young, but I'm always the youngest person in the room so no matter there. Otherwise... oh, I don't know, Han. I would understand if you were wary if only because we've really only been together for – how long?"_

 _He frowned. "Yeah, but you know that's a shit way to measure it."_

 _"Do you think so?"_

 _"We've got two decades worth of history at least."_

 _"At least," she echoed amusedly, a smile playing on her lips._

 _"S'it make a difference if I said I was already plannin' on asking you to marry me?"_

 _"I know you're committed to me, Han. That isn't it..."_

 _"So talk to me and we'll figure it out."_

 _Oh, she loved him. "I'm just – I like our lives, right now," she admitted. "They are dangerous and they're certainly very exhausting physically but I do like them. And I don't know if I'm ready to give them up just yet."_

 _He nodded thoughtfully. "Y'think it might be a woman thing, too?"_

 _"Watch yourself, hotshot."_

 _"No, I mean - worryin' about your life having to change more? 'Cause for me it's like – it's us, it's just us doing what we're doing but with, y'know, an infant. Which is scary as hell, don't get me wrong – I don't know if I'll be any good at that. But seems like maybe you feel like you'll have to change more – wondering if it's a woman thing. 'Gender thing,' or whatever you're always saying."_

 _Gods, she really, really loved him. "You've been reading some of my books?" she teased. "Space Bodies, Space Selves?"_

 _"Nah, Princess, just listenin.' Am I right though?"_

 _"You know you always are, don't make me say it."_

 _"Well listen. I can't promise you nothing would change, or that people won't say shit they shouldn't. But I can say that I love you, who you are now. This Leia. And m'not gonna let anything take her away an' tell her she has to become some cute little housewife or some shit, alright? If I had a kid the person I'd want to have a kid with is you."_

 _She smiled at him broadly, striding over to kiss his cheek. Felt herself feel settled and safe as she stood on her tiptoes, even if the matter wasn't totally decided yet. "And I, you."_

––you could make it," she said drily, her smile teasing but genuine.

Han grimaced and kissed her hard. She could feel him trembling, just slightly. "You're okay? Everything's okay?"

"Everything's okay, promise. Catch your breath, flyboy, we've got plenty of time."

"You see a doctor yet, or––"

"Only briefly, but I'm sure he'll circle back. It's not exactly like there are any other births happening."

"Right, right." He cleared his throat, turned. "Thanks for gettin' her here and all––"

"Of course," Carlist said, smiling and standing up to go. "And you'll do wonderfully, Princess. But please, do keep everyone posted – there's no excuse to have us all worrying."

 _––worrying about something," Luke was saying._

 _"That's not a look," Leia said, frowning, "I don't have a worrying look."_

 _"Well, maybe not. Could be that's just your normal face."_

 _"Very mature, Jedi master."_

 _"Hey, we've got a whole childhood of teasing to make up for!"_

 _"Can we skip the babyish part, maybe?"_

 _"And go with teenagers? Sure –_ Lei _-a, could you stop messing around with my_ friends _?"_

 _"Friends, plural?"_

 _"Better watch yourself, you know," he chastised, his voice mock-stern, clucking his tongue. "Don't wanna end up an unwed teen mother…"_

 _Leia cringed. "Speaking of which…"_

 _"I'm sorry, what?"_

 _"... well there_ will _be a wedding, and I'm not a teenager––"_

 _"Leia! You're not serious!"_

 _"... I'm fairly serious."_

 _"You're pregnant!"_

 _"... Yes."_

 _"And Han's the––!"_

 _"Well, I'm not 'messing around' with any of your other friends," she said, dry but grinning._

 _"And you're going to be married?"_

 _"It's quite a lot, isn't it?"_

 _"I guess, but – I'm just so_ happy _!"_

––happy all the time, hell – but yeah, you okay with that? Sweetheart?"

"Mm? Okay with what?"

"Kid's here, wants to come in, practically bouncing off the walls."

"Luke's here? Already? I thought he was––"

"Y'know, he'll speed across the galaxy to make sure he's not missing a chance to third wheel––"

"So romantic, me and my dilating cervix."

"Yeah, make sure you mention your cervix when he comes in, he'll love that." She heard Han pull back the curtain the tiniest amount – all of the base's little rooms in medical were curtained compartments, and she could hear the rush of battle wounds being treated, training accidents bandaged, all around her – and say gruffly, "Yeah, you're good, c'mon in."

"Leia!" Luke rushed over to her bed, hugging her tightly. "How're you feeling? Are you okay? I got your bag––"

"You forgot my bag?!"

Han muttered something to the effect of _not_ _wasting_ _time_ _searchin_ ' _for_ _a_ _kriffin_ ' _bag._

"But you're okay," Luke pressed, perching next to her.

"I've been better, I'm not incredibly _comfortable_ but I'm okay, yes. She's okay."

" _He_."

"Thank you, Captain," she said, saluting. "We're okay, everything's fine, just a bit chaotic – ah––" She scrunched up her face as another contraction hit, then groaned in frustration – "Stop it Han – mm, you don't need to get up – I'm f––"

He was there already, propping her up the way she liked and rubbing her back, squeezing her hand tight. "Nice try," he murmured, "you're not gettin' rid of me so easy."

Luke, who seemed a bit out of his depth watching his best friend murmur to his laboring sister and massage her through the open back of her gown, reached out awkwardly and squeezed her shoulder. "You're... doing really good, Lei!"

Leia, one hand on the still-shocking hill of her stomach and the other, the one with the slender steel ring, clutching the hand of her very new husband, got a glimpse her brother's serious-anxious expression and laughed until the pain settled.

 _–– settle on something, I do hate calling her The Baby."_

 _"And I hate that you're calling our son 'her,' but I don't complain – pass me that wrench, will ya?"_

 _"I like your mother's name," Leia pressed on, bending as best she could to pass it before straightening up authoritatively. "Jaina? What do you think, Luke?"_

 _"Dunno, what was she like?" Luke asked casually, popping another crisp into his mouth and leaning back in his seat in the Falcon's lounge. Leia was ready to murder him, she was sure – how many times did she have to say that the smell was hideous? Didn't he know it would linger for weeks? "I mean, was she a good person, all that?"_

 _"I – I suppose I don't really know," Leia admitted, frowning. Another surreal reminder of how much there was she had left to learn about him, of how quickly everything had happened. "Was she?"_

 _Han paused, then conceded, "Yeah. She was a good woman. Now that bolt – not that one, yeah that's the one, thanks sweetheart."_

 _"Well, good," she said in a voice she hoped sounded decisive. "The galaxy is always in need of more good women. It's a lovely name, anyway."_

 _"What about your mom's name, Lei? Breha?" Luke piped up. "Rey for short?"_

 _"You're both wasting your damn time, I told ya, he's a boy––"_

 _"Well what do you propose in the case of that unlikely scenario, then?" Leia asked hotly._

 _Even though Leia couldn't see his smug grin, she was sure she could hear it. "Well, Chewie's son is called Lumpy, was always fond of that…"_

 _"I could kill you."_

 _"Hey! Maybe it'll be twins! One of each? Then everyone wins!" Luke teased. "I heard that it runs in families..."_

 _"I could kill you both."_

––both been up for hours, I figured you might want some too."

"Thanks, kid."

Leia frowned sleepily. "Skywalker… d-dammit… you said both and yet you have brought me… _mm_ , nothing."

"I thought you couldn't have––"

"She knows she can't, she just likes to remind everyone every few hours, right sweetheart?"

"I would just like it… mmm, acknow-lived – ledged – that I've been up longer than _anyone_ else, so…"

"Yep, and you're doing amazing––"

"I take it back, I don't want the fawning, you can keep it, just let me suffer in peace." She yawned, then moaned. "Oh, _gods_ ––"

"I got ya," Luke said, as though she were an errand, and he propped her up and squeezed her hand and rubbed her back and whispered enthusiastically while she groaned.

"Ah – can you pass me the w-water – with the straw?"

"Yup," he said, grabbing it from the table beside her and holding it to her lips.

"W'time is it, actually?"

"'Bout four."

"Oh…"

"How're you feelin'?"

" _Tired_."

"Pshh, I'm sorry, is this battle-ready General Organa, is this I'll-take-midnight-watch Organa, is this how many rounds in one night Leia Organa?" he teased lightly.

"Thanks for that, love that!" Luke called, sipping his kaffe.

"We've been here _twelve_ _hours_ ––!"

"Eh, since when do you sleep anyway, Princess?"

"Oh dunno, since my _husband_ is always telling me––"

"And anyway this ain't even, like – in the top ten of hard shit you've done."

"HAN, it's a _baby._ Your baby, you stupid – _tall_ – nerf – your entire baby, out of my _vagina_ , Han." She dropped her voice low, placed her hands on the span of her narrow hips: "Han, have you _seen_ my vagina?"

Luke moaned again, and Han laughed: "They give you something? 'Cause it seems great, think I can get some too?"

"They didn't give me anything, laserbrain, I told you, I'm just really, really – _ahh_! – really, _mMMm_ – really––"

" _Really, Han, I couldn't care less what you wear," Leia was saying, her voice dismissive but still fond. (This was actually not a lie — between trudging through the pain of pregnancy and trying to construct a government from the ground-up, putting together their small wedding ceremony was the last thing on her mind.) She frowned, then looked up from her datapad and added a caveat — "So long as it's clean."_

 _"Well, shit, there goes most of my options," he teased, grinning crookedly. "What about you, then, what're you gonna wear? Big fluffy white gown?"_

 _"Mm, uh-uh," she said distractedly, sipping her tea and continuing to skim the report in front of her. "Traditionally it would be the first time you see me in not white, so… whatever color I want, really. It's meant to surprise you but – any preferences?"_

 _"How about red?" he murmured, his mouth suddenly against her neck. "You never wear red…"_

 _"It'd certainly fit with the blaster-bolt wedding theme," she quipped, rolling her eyes and shaking him off. "Should I wear netted stockings too?"_

 _"I wouldn't mind. Hey, y'gonna be reading those all through the ceremony, Princess?"_

 _She batted her lashes up at him innocently, making her eyes huge. "Is that not what we agreed upon?"_

 _"Kriff, you're gonna be pushing the kid out while scanning reports, I swear."_

 _"Mmhm, that's how childbirth works, you got it––"_

 _He had his arms around her waist then, swaying her back and forth. "Yes ma'am, and he's gonna grow up and ask, what'd you name me Alan for, Mam? And you'll say, oh, hush, Allied Forces Of The New Republic Organa, I'm busy—"_

 _Leia scoffed, twisting to kiss him lightly. "Please, Iwill be carrying around our daughter all day, and all these diplomats and politicians will coo and say oh, she's so sweet – what's Millie is short for – Millicent? And I'll say no no, it's short for Millenniumfalcon. Millenniumfalcon? Oh yes, I'll say, it's family name, it's from Alderaan, very traditional."_

 _"Very traditional, just like you an' me."_

 _(As it were, she ended up settling for an impossibly pale pink, a departure from her favorite deep blues and greens. So he was surprised, his throat tightening when he saw her, and she was pleased. Later he'd tell her it wasn't the color though so much as seeing her in something fitted for the first time since she'd started to show – she'd been wearing oversized Alliance-issued clothing more out of necessity than anything else. And then there she was, calm and content and a little amused, wearing something that clung to the swollen curve of her belly and breasts and marked this bizarre, impossible future they'd half-discussed as suddenly, radiantly near. Plus her lingerie was scarlet, just for kicks...)_

––kicks, movement, anything like that?"

"No changes that I've– mm – noticed but I've been – a little _distracted_ ––"

"Then there's no reason to be worried - the baby's looking perfectly healthy, but we should talk about _you_ ––"

"Isn't it true, though, that you've never actually _delivered_ a baby before? So how can you _possibly_ be sure she's okay––"

"Princess, as our chief medic I really can assure you that the theory is quite simple and with this being a military base, it's not unusual for areas of expertise to be more––"

(The conversation halted briefly as she screamed through another contraction, her vision blacking for a moment.)

"Princess – your pulse is racing, you've described feeling dizzy, confused – you're close to pushing but with your blood pressure this high it seems quite unsafe to move forward – some pain management could make a major difference––"

"I said no needles. Han, we said no needles."

"Yeah sweetheart, I know. But you've gotten through 'em before, since, remember when we did those vaccines an' all? Was no problem––"

"Not for her being born, I don't want––"

"Hey Leia, why don't you lie back down?" Luke said suddenly, his voice slow in that Jedi-master-I'm-trying-not-to-betray-my-intentions way. "You look so pale."

"I'm _fine–_ –"

"Lei, c'mon, lie back down, alright? I gotcha, real slow."

"I know you don't want needles," Han was saying, stroking the sloppy braid he's done himself hours earlier, "but you know shit never goes as planned for us – and you heard him, though, then you can push soon – and he'll be here. I promise it won't be so bad. I'll make sure, okay?"

"... Okay."

She watched the room blur with activity, and then Han was looking her in the eye and there was something on her back and Luke was saying, "Five, four, three, two––"

 _––two over here?" Leia asked lightly, her arm around his waist as they approached a group in mess._

 _"Sure, we can scoot," Dameron had said, making room on the bench of the long table._

 _"Solo, Mrs. Solo," Wedge greeted them, acknowledging their return to base after the mission-cum-wedding._

 _Not missing a beat, Han had said gruffly, "Get it it right, kid, s'Mrs. Organa."_

-Organa? Hello?"

"Mm? Wha?"

"There you go, scared me there for a second––"

"Sorry, I – Han, s'this?"

"S'oxygen sweetheart, 'cause your breathing's a little haywire, don't mess with it – hey, okay, I gotcha, gotcha – breathe––"

"What's––"

"Just ignore 'em, sweetheart, they're just setting you up and all – you're okay, you're all okay – baby's gonna be here so soon, you're doing real good-"

"I feel – _mm_ – I feel w-weird-"

"I know, just stay with me alright? S'gonna be alright, you're okay–

"She _really_ wants to––"

"I know-"

"Wants to come _now_ – Han––!"

" _Han."_

 _"Mmmmmm?"_

 _"Han."_

 _"Waswrong? Y'okay?"_

 _"Yes–"_

 _"Baby okay?"_

 _"Yes, but—"_

 _"Mmhmm."_

 _"Han."_

 _"Go back to sleep, Princess."_

 _"I can't, I'm too anxious."_

 _"You'll feel better in the mornin', alright?"_

 _"Han, I'm anxious and I can't sleep."_

 _"Mm. Alright. W'you stressed 'bout?"_

 _"Do you ever think about how isolated we are out here? Han, where are we going to get a crib?"_

" _S'it? I'll build it, no big thing – go back to sleep…"_

 _"Diapers, Han."_

 _"Cut up some ol' sheets, sew 'em right. We're gonna be fine, go sleep now…"_

 _She was quiet for a few moments, then piped up anxiously. "Okay, but what about a breast pump?"_

 _After a moment of silence, he was up, stalking naked to the main room – she could hear him, just barely, muttering harshly into his comm. He returned immediately, flopped back into bed. "Taken care of. Anything else?"_

 _She wracked her brain. "Well, not right now…"_

 _"Then sleep, princess."_

 _(Later, when Luke dropped by the base unexpectedly, Leia had exclaimed, "You're back early! Any reason?" And Luke had given her a curious look, reaching into his pack. "Yeah, your crazy husband called me in the middle of the night saying you needed one of these, ASAP." He handed her a breast pump, making a face. "Wasn't easy to find. Compared to the looks I was getting, though, that part was easy.")_

"Easy, _easy_ Leia, damn, you gotta slow down or you're going to hurt yourself––"

"Are you l-l-laughing? Luke! Is he _laughing_ – I swear––"

"Ha, he's an idiot, ignore him––"

"How can you both be laughing – _mmph_ ––"

"'Cause we're morons, you know that – _push_!"

 _––push comes to shove I'd consider it, but I really don't want to stop working," Leia said thoughtfully._

 _"Yeah, don't worry, I don't think anyone with half a brain would assume that. An' you shouldn't stop, if you don't wanna. Why the hell should you?"_

 _"And neither should you, so then in terms of childcare–"_

 _"Your brother's Jedi daycare won't be up and running yet?"_

 _"Har har."_

 _"Think he'll give us a family discount?"_

 _She pressed on, ignoring him: "Anyway, my parents used to bring me with them, everywhere. To meetings and such – I'm serious!"_

 _"You want me to believe you didn't have a fleet of royal nannies––"_

 _"When I was older and got bored more easily – but I really did spend most of my time coloring in my mother's diplomatic meetings when I was a toddler. We took lunch together and everything, I remember."_

 _"I kinda like that. Feel weird about dropping him off with strangers––"_

 _"And if we're still moving around a lot, there's no guarantee there will be someone adequate everywhere for her––"_

 _"You still sure you want that? Keep going on adventures, living out of a trunk on the Falcon?"_

 _"Well we like that, don't we? Maybe until she has to start school, I thought. It's not like there's any one place that's safe but not isolated anyway."_

 _"That's the truth."_

 _"And anyway, we're space orphans. Roaming it what we do."_

 _"Mm, but he won't be a space orphan, don't forget."_

 _"So she'll never have to be lonely, ever."_

 _"When I was a kid I would wish I could see everything. Like that he'd get that. And get to see what you're working towards. What we care about."_

 _"She'll have to be very brave, of course. And very self-reliant."_

 _"Lucky for him, it runs in the family."_

––family? Meet your Mama?"

Leia blinked rapidly in confusion and her world felt not right: the mask over her mouth and nose, the sharp things in her arm and back, the din of voices and her body snapped up and split open and somehow both numb and raw and aching, the raging pain in her head and the black blur around the edge of her vision and this new warm bright feeling just to the edge of her own presence and her screaming sounding all wrong, not like her at all––

And then she was realizing that it wasn't coming from her––

"For the record," Han's voice was saying, sounding almost giddy, "I was right––"

 _Really_ , _flyboy_ _how_ _you'll_ _introduce_ _yourself_ _to_ _your_ _son_? Leia tried to quip, but her voice was slippery and so were her thoughts and it came out sounding more like, "Real f'y'a son?"

And he was laughing again and saying careful, that he had her, saying he loved her, saying here we go, princess, alright––

And even though her arms felt like so much jelly, hardly arms, not hers at all she could see them moving and then clasping, tight, this soft, slippery thing to her chest––

Holding it tight with a strength that surprised her as the rest of her felt so malleable, gooey, not hers – this was hers, he was theirs––

She was laughing too, then. Trying to make sentences and struggling and not caring much, laughing and forcing her mouth to form at least one syllable, slipping out between the teeth of her bright smile, easy as anything, there he was now, not an orphan, not harmed, blinking up at her and at their small, shining, improbable family: _Ben_ , _Ben_ , _Ben_.

 _And we're off! Everything herein will be linear and much more conventionally written - just wanted to give a bit of context plus a sense of the chaos in order to start. Anticipate updates every Sunday. Your comments and ideas always mean the world to me!_


	2. 1: Homecoming

_As a head's up/TW, there are some references to torture in the end of the chapter._

1: Homecoming

 _Greetings, all––_

 _SO: the rumors are true – Baby Solo made an early debut in the wee morning hours the other day. Han is doing a valiant job of acting like he's not freaking out about the existence of an Actual Baby; HRH gave us a bit of a scare but seems to be feeling better and is home today; Ben Organa Solo is, as you might have guessed, perfect._

 _I have included below information about his weight and time of birth etc. such that all relevant bets might be settled. Unfortunately I lost count of HRH's use of certain four-letter words but I can assure you that it was greater than a dozen. FOR THE RECORD: There was NO fainting. Any rumors otherwise are FALSE! The only person that came close was an injured pilot who walked into the wrong room & got quite the view. _

_Anyway – stats attached, plus a holo of the happy family being quite sweet until they notice I'm recording, at which point they both get super aggressive. No one like these two. Or rather, these three._

 _Most sincerely,_

 _"Uncle Luke"_

 _How are you feeling?_ Over the past five days it was the only question people seemed to ask her, and she never knew how to answer it. There had been a time when Leia Organa had relished in knowing the answer to every question: had known – still knew – seven languages worth of complex grammar and the ritual etiquette of every Core World's political elite and the women's literacy rates in every province of her homeland; could always be counted on to know what to say. But this was because she always understood the question, and she did not understand this question.

 _How are you feeling?_ came in one of two forms. There was the incarnation that was breathless and excited and wide-eyed, which she seemed to understand as seeking an ecstatic new-mom enthusiasm for a response: _aren't you feeling wonderful? Isn't it fantastic?_ It sought a confirmation of what was expected – that she felt fabulously renewed and _different_.

And she did feel different, in ways that were complicated and unnerving and odd, but she suspected their question was premised on the popular trope that motherhood would remake her, soften her, finally render her melted and kind and above all a _real_ woman. And she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging that she felt changed in any way.

The second form also premised itself on a sort of inner, private knowledge, but instead of being breathless it was hushed – a chin tilted down, eyes looking up, all soft and sympathetic and knowing. A _mustn't be easy, are you alright dear, take the time you need_ of a question, infantilizing and superior.

It had gotten around the base that Ben's birth had been difficult, which made her feel angry and embarrassed. It wasn't Luke's _fault_ per se, she supposed even if he hadn't essentially told the Rogues the closeness of quarters would've made it known, there had been other recruits in medical that day who'd seen the rush of activity around her room, but once he had said it somewhat publicly people seemed to think it was acceptable to acknowledge it to her face. _How are you feeling?_ Carlist, then Mon in her med center quarters to meet Ben during one of the brief intervals during which he slept while she was awake. Somewhere after _he's beautiful,_ somewhere before _well, you're so tiny – well, you're so young._ She didn't hate the sympathy but she hated that people thought she needed it. Hated that she felt small and already like she was not very good at this, that everyone on the base was thinking about her body – the width of her hips, the strength of her stamina, what she might look like spread out and laboring and made common. Like when politicians on other planets would unabashedly stare at her abdomen while she was pregnant, stroke it without asking, tell her she the way she was carrying meant the baby was a boy, a girl, breach, and there was nothing she could say because she was Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan representing the provisional council of the New Republic, yes we're very excited, thank you so much. _How are you feeling, dear?_ That knowing look of thinking about her body. She'd had this nightmare before.

To both of these, her response was neutral and cool: "different." "Different," with a polite smile, which usually got a deep, knowing nod. And she nodded back, even though she knew they didn't know. Was bright like that, even in this foggy cloud of a headspace that was revealing itself to be life post-partum.

If they asked the other way, the third way, _different_ would still be correct, but they never asked that way. The third way would be to lean into the word _feeling_. Here's how she was feeling: as though she had two hearts, and one of them lived outside her body and was generating vibrant, undiluted emotion at all hours. Ben, unable to shield, was sending glowing unmediated _feelings_ to her alone, this child so unlike herself, never learning to be reticent. They washed over her like waves of color. _How was she feeling?_ Confusing, and different, and strange. Overwhelming. Sort of like nursing, somehow, in that it seemed to complicate the sharp lines she'd drawn between her body and the outside world. Made her feel a little separate from Han, but not in a bad way.

 _Han_ – there he was, frowning at her. "Y'okay there, Princess? How're you feeling?"

"Oh, fine – thank you," Leia murmured, stirred out of introspection. She gave him a hazy, sleepy smile. It was early in the morning – too early, 0700, but they hadn't slept properly for days and wouldn't anytime soon. Plus it was also breakfast in mess and thus their chance to slip unnoticed from medical to their unit. They were walking as quickly as her still-tender body would allow her, and it reminded her of the time between Tatooine and Endor, when they'd try to slip into her quarters secretly, lose patience at the limits of their speed-walking and get started in a side hallway, her heart pounding as he pressed her up against these cold walls… Fast, dangerous, sexy, _did you hear about Solo and the princess…?_

She watched as he shifted the baby in his arms – still sleeping, his features smooth and at ease, but that wouldn't last long. Seeing him against the stark, white halls was so disorienting – the identical duristeel doors, the line of scanners, the hard floors. So uniform and pragmatic and ruthless. And there, in the middle of it: their warm, curious child.

"This place is a goddamn maze," he muttered, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders.

"Mm...I always want to turn; Luke's always reminding me the way is straight, then straight, then straight."

Han snorted. "Doesn't sound like Luke."

Leia yawned, swatted him gently. "Han, he's _been_ with women."

"Please, that means nothing. _You've_ been with women."

"I have not. A kiss at fifteen _hardly_ counts, flyboy."

"Yes, Your Worship," he retorted, grinning at her and squeezing her shoulder.

She rubbed her eyes. "You set up his cradle?"

"Yep, Chewie and I got it done yesterday."

"Hmm, why does that make me feel more nervous than reassured?" She could feel the baby stirring, and she tried to make their shared thoughts feel warm, sleepy, safe.

"Not a clue. And… here we are," he said, pointing at one of the identical doors just ahead.

"How can you tell?" she asked drily.

"Mmmm, scuff on the wall from those spiked heels of yours."

"Scoundrel."

They approached the door, and Han shifted the baby onto his hip while Leia pressed her hand against the scanner. It felt sort of surreal; she half-expected it not to recognize her, she felt so far removed from the woman who'd been pacing their unit's small kitchenette at dawn with a cup of tea and a no-nonsense expression, certain these weren't _labor_ pains. "Once we're inside, you're off your feet, alright? No exceptions."

"Shall I just collapse onto the floor the moment we walk in?" she asked as the light flicked green and the door clicked open.

"Cute." He pushed the door open with his other hip, and Ben stirred again at the movement, his tiny brow furrowing. "And – this is it, buddy," he said softly, brushing some of Ben's dark hair from his forehead. She would never tire of nor stop being surprised by listening Han talk to the baby – how his voice grew sweet and soft and tender, his smile playful and warm, no irony, no masculine blasé. " _You,"_ he instructed, pointing, " _couch_."

She rolled her eyes and made her way to the couch, lying so that its arm propped her up into almost sitting. "Mm – I believe I was promised some kaffe? I'd make it myself, but I've been grounded by my husband… you see he's _terribly_ overbearing…"

"S'not me, s'doctors," he reminded her, but he dutifully went over to the little kitchenette to start some, chattering to Ben along the way: _your ma can be a bit demanding, pal, but s'long as you give her her way, y'know, you'll be alright. Think you can manage that?_

"I can hear you," she called, then cringed at the aching sound of their crappy machine starting up. Ben heard it too, was unhappy, she could feel it, plus hear his quiet mewls. "I'm going to go jump in the shower, I think…"

"C'I interest you in a bath instead?"

"Tub is nasty, and anyway I want to be quick." She stood up and headed for the 'fresher, plucking hair pins out as she went. "I'll sit on the floor." This she was used to – she often grew faint in the shower, especially because she liked to make the water hotter still until it nearly burned her.

"You thought anymore about when you wanna move into the other unit?" Han called as she stripped. (They'd been allocated a two-bedroom and had been planning to bring their things over there two weeks before Ben's due date, which was now two weeks or so away.)

Leia peered at her body, how different it seemed, almost deflated, without the promise of the baby inside her. Her stomach had been not her stomach, her legs not her legs in many months, but at least they had belonged to someone else then – now they were no one's. "Whenever you'll let me help carry the boxes, I suppose," she called in response, before adding tiredly: "All three of them."

"Hey, we've accumulated some junk over the years."

Ben was still fidgeting, and she felt his annoyance creep into her own aching body as she stepped into the hot water. Whose waist was this, whose arms? " _You_ havebeen accumulating junk for decades," she called over the rush of water. Whose breasts? " _I_ own three whole pairs of pants. And _baby…_ "

"Baby's about to become the most popular kid in the galaxy."

"We won't keep any of that," she said firmly, cringing at the idea of the gifts her office would receive, ostensibly for Ben but obviously for currying her favor as a member of the provisional council. "We'll donate it."

"Still got a whole mess of pilots who consider him theirs."

"Well, I've got some difficult news for them – he's not a new rec room toy, he's our _child_." She tilted up her chin to wash the shampoo out of her long hair and added primly, "Maybe Luke can pass that along in his next news blast."

His mouth twitched, but he swallowed his retort. Ben was squirming in earnest now, and he bounced him lightly. Leia wrapped a towel around her hair and another around her body, slipping back into the room. "Yeah, I didn't know anything about that either. Thought it was a bit much."

"What does H.R.H. stand for, anyway?" she asked edgily over her shoulder as she entered the second room, the bedroom. Paused for a second to look at the small cradle, right beside the bed – her side. Simple and unassuming, hopefully stable.

"You're kidding…"

"Because I'm so wont to kid." For a second she considered dressing, but instead she slipped on one of her old white nightgowns, then worked on settling her hair into one long, slick braid.

"Uh, it's Her Royal Highness. Old pilot slang from – hell, Hoth maybe? On the messaging channels, since comm audio was so bad. Used to be – I think H.R.H. Ploh-uh, but that got old fast."

Leia stepped back into the room, draping a blanket from their bed around her shoulders – her wet hair always left her shivering. Frowned as she took stock of Ben, his anxiety. _This place always feels new to me too,_ she thought sympathetically. _Da's got you though, beloved, don't fret._

"Hey," he said, smiling immediately. He looked like something gorgeous, she had to admit, with their baby bouncing on his hip, but Ben looked anxious still, and let out a single cry. "You look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes as she settled back onto the couch, then held out her arms expectantly as Ben began to cry in earnest. "Ploh-uh?"

"P.L.O.A. – Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan." Han rubbed the baby's back, talked soothingly to him: _you're okay kid, I got ya, shh._

"They needed a code name to talk about me? What the hell?" Ben kept scrunching his face up, was wailing now. Leia was still holding her arms out. " _Han._ "

"Nah, I don't think he's hungry––" Han said, frowning and holding him closer, bouncing, murmuring. "And it wasn't like that – and I wasn't in on it, anyway – but it'd be like Solo and H.R.H. are going at each other in the southwest coordinator, bets on who storms away first. Dumb shit like that."

"Seems very unkind, to be honest – _Han._ "

"Really, think he's just scared 'cause the new––"

"I do have some purpose beyond feeding him––"

"I told you I got it, Leia, I can _do_ ––"

"Yes, I know you _can_ , but Han, _please._ " She thrust her extended arms for emphasis. "He's giving me a headache."

He grunted and relinquished the screaming baby, and she held him very close, closer than most people held infants, she was beginning to notice; up against her chest with her hands cupping his head and his back.

Han, for his part, took a breath and stalked over to the kitchenette.

"Han, _don't…_ " She trailed off, sighing and focusing herself on Ben's wails. "Shh, my darling, shh beloved..." She stroked his back gently, rubbing his fine hair between the fingers on her other hand. Tried to make the inside of her head feel gentle and pink and safe, their sparse unit someplace warm and comfortable. "I know, I know. It seems a bit scary, but together we make it into home…" Pressed her face to the top of his head, inhaled and exhaled with her whole body, the way she did when she meditated after a particularly rough nightmare. "Soon you'll see the Falcon, that's where Mama and Daddy really live anyway, and I'll never let you out of my sight on that piece of junk so you'll always be in somebody's arms, promise… I know, I know… it's scary here, and very cold… it isn't meant for babies..." She tucked the blanket around herself tighter so that it was wrapped around him as well, only his hair visible in their little cocoon, his warm breath evening out against her chest. "I don't like the cold either, someday I will tell you about the time your father and I spent a whole year shivering, but you'll never have to do anything like that, I'll make sure…" Finally he felt warm and protected, sunset colors washing over her, his hot cheek pressed against her exposed skin just above the nightgown's sweetheart neckline.

Han reemerged into her line of vision with two mugs of kaffee. "Yours with cream," he said gruffly, careful to keep his voice low, and placed it down on the standard-issue metal table in front of the couch. She smiled her thanks before returning her gaze to the baby. Sunset colors and cream colors – vanilla, pale butter, ecru...

Han sat beside her, holding his own mug with both hands and not saying anything. She glanced at him sympathetically, but he was still looking straight ahead.

"Han…" she murmured, poking him with her toes.

He shook his head as though to clear it. "M'sorry. Hey." Gave her a half smile. "You look cozy."

"I love you," she said softly with what she hoped he'd understand as real, genuine affection. Appreciation.

He leaned over and gently kissed her, then the top of the baby's head. "Love you too."

"You'll be alright if I doze off here with him?"

"Yep, go right ahead."

"Thanks." She yawned, settling deeper into the couch and snuggling closer to the baby. "He'll be up in an hour anyway, so… quick reprieve."

"Yeah, think I'll close my eyes too."

"Good, you deserve it," she said, glad whatever tension had existed between them seemed to have dissipated at least somewhat. It wasn't her fault that she was particularly adept at calming the baby – they had the Force, plus the fact that he'd lived inside her and received all of his meals from her body, to blame for that.

He lifted up her legs so they were resting in his lap, tugged some of the blanket onto himself as well, then leaned back and shut his eyes. They sat in silence for a long moment, that hazy, soft place between waking and sleeping.

It was muttered so softly she barely even heard it at first: "You think he dreams?"

"Mm?" she murmured, not opening her eyes. "Yes, I think so… he definitely _feels_ while he's asleep."

"Mm. What's he feeling now?"

Leia smiled, fluttering her eyes open for a second. "Content. And safe, and warm. So maybe he's dreaming about us."

Han yawned, patting her thigh. Whose thigh? Hers, yes, it was hers, it was her thigh, of course it was. "'Course he is. Us for parents? Dream come true."

XX.

Somewhere in between urine on her blouse and shit on his sleeve:

"Alright, they're folded and in the dresser."

"Mm, wonderful..."

" _Lot_ of diapers for such a tiny thing."

She yawned. "Well, never underestimate the ability of the itty-bitty to inflict their will..."

"Hey, s'that Luke's poncho?"

"No-o-o, it's _my_ poncho."

" _Your_ poncho?"

"Luke brought it back for me from Tatooine – I think two months ago...? I was telling him none of my clothes fit…"

"Seriously? Never saw it before."

"Well it's _so_ hideously ugly… but it's lovely right now, no buttons or sleeves…"

"Heh, clever. How's baby?"

"Ravenous. Otherwise – he seems calmer today. He's much less anxious. Good thing we _never_ travel to new places, right?"

"Kriff. An' you?"

"I'm well..."

"You wanna elaborate on that, princess?"

"Sleepy, foggy – I just feel out of it, really – mm, volatile and like – swinging… like not in control of myself, it's a little disorienting… trying to sleep in these – forty-five minute intervals – otherwise well though, I'm really fine..."

"Still hurting, or––?"

"So badly, but too tired to do a blessed thing about it, so."

" _Ugh,_ Leia…"

"I'll send you out to fetch me something frozen later to – smush to myself or something during this next break – I dunno, I'll figure it out."

"Alright…"

"I don't know, I feel very – mellow, I think, which is a very nice way of saying so sleep-deprived I can barely think in sentences. It's – sort of relaxing? Like when you're in hyperdrive and you lose holo connectivity for a bit, and there's nothing you can do – you have to put down your work, slow down... Or, you know, maybe even riding an elevator up a very tall building... An enforced stillness."

"Mm. That's nice. I like that."

"It sounds a lot less hideous than just – oh how are you, Leia – oh, I'm _ow,_ how are you… that made more sense in my head... wait here, you can help me with something – c'you proof this for me?"

"Sure, though can't promise my grammar skills are up to your royal standards."

"Just make sure it sounds like words. There – thank you."

"... what is this, exactly?"

"Statement, from my office, 'bout the baby."

"Yeah no I can see that, but––"

She yawned: "you remember how there was an announcement after we were married, don't you?"

"Right, I forget you're a celebrity an' all that."

"Hardly. It's information for our allies - it lets them know why I'll be out of commission for a short interval, reassures them that negotiations will continue as per usual..."

"Pleased to welcome the birth'... I think you need either _pleased to announce the birth of_ or _pleased to welcome_ and then go right into 'their son,' yeah?"

"Sure, I trust you."

"You just want _me_ to pick? Kriff, who is this _woman._ "

"What can I say…"

"Oh – looks like it changed Organa to organism. S'it do that automatically?"

"Mm… what? Thought we agreed on Ben Organism Solo, I don't understand… well, this is certainly embarrassing…"

"Otherwise looks good. I'll hit send?"

"Thanks."

"No image, right?"

"None… you really have to remind Luke to spread the word that we're going to be strict about that, it's really important to me… in the one he sent to the Rogues he's not really visible, but..."

"Yeah, I agree with you a whole lot on that one."

"Wait, can you – scoot for a second so I can––"

"Oh – yep, hold on––"

"Thanks."

"Yep."

"Going back – think I have one exception..."

"Alright..."

"I really do want to send something to the – remaining people from home. Something – longer, more intimate – I keep drafting it in my head but I can never get it right – my correspondance got fuzzy while I was pregnant, and I miss it – and I want them to know that I'm here – if we were planetside his birth would be quite significant, I want them to know that I plan on making home a real part of his life, that he will – that they can rely on me. And I want to model a way of bringing home to our children, into the future, without relying on just adhering to tradition as closely as possible – and I think I should send an image with it. I think it's important that he isn't kept secret from them… it's just so difficult because I don't know if they'd rather see that everything's okay or see that I'm commiserating in a lot of the… I don't know, it's so complicated…"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Can't even imagine."

"It's very weird. I was thinking about how – how it's very important to me, that he knows about them, about his grandparents too? But they will always be his grandmother and his grandfather, and if they were alive he'd call them something else."

"Yeah?"

"Yes – Da's father I called Papa, so I imagine he'd take that. And my mother's mother I called Nana. Nana B, I think she mentioned wanting to be called, once. One of those conversations I used to hate so much. He'll never call them anything like that."

"Mm."

"I wished she was there, so badly. Afterwards? When they were – stitching me up and all – I don't know. It's silly, because she never – you know, she never gave birth, obviously. But for some reason that was when I missed her the most. Maybe because I felt so over my head. And it seemed like you did too. It felt like she was the only one who could make it right. But I guess I made it right without her, like I do... Like we do. I wish you could've known them."

"I know. I – s'something I think about a lot. I wish I could've known them, too."

"I hope he's interesting. Our – Ben? I hope he's wonderful to talk to, and witty, and bright. Sometimes I think the hardest thing about losing your parents is you're losing both your _parents_ – like your mother and father, the people who indulged me when I decided I was a small feline animal for a week and let me lap up milk from a bowl, who held their hands against my forehead just so as they rinsed my hair, so I wouldn't get any soapy water in my eyes. But also people I was beginning to get to know, as friends, you know? As people I enjoyed talking to… my father and I were _friends_ , Mam and I were getting there… I'll never know them in that way, as adults, as peers who share interests. Enjoy similar holovids…"

"Sweetheart…"

"I think I'm excited to be his mother but I'm also terribly excited to be his friend. Like finally meeting a cousin you've been curious about for _weeks_ , because Mam and Da told you they relatives visiting have a child who's the same age as you, and also love going bug-hunting, and there's never anyone your age around. And when you finally meet them you want to hug them so tight, even though you've technically never met them. Because you already know you're going to get along so very, very well? I don't know, I can't even follow my own sentences anymore… pass me that rag, will you? Mm… thank you, love you."

"Love you too."

XX.

Nighttime, not sure what time, not even sure what day, everything was always blending together now... She was on a gurney being raced down a bright steel hallway, very cold, wearing only a hospital gown, and she was pregnant but not pregnant in that she could see the hill of her belly but didn't _feel_ the baby inside her, and everyone was shouting with urgency, something was _wrong,_ very wrong _._ She tried to listen to the voices of her attendants but they were muffled as their faces, she guessed, were covered––

And then with a start she realized it was the Death Star, she was _on_ the Death Star, the first one, and the flurry of nurses in white with covered faces were stormtroopers, barrelling her down into the detention block.

She tried to lunge herself off the gurney but was seared with incomprehensible pain in her pelvis, tried to cry out as one of the troopers was roughly wrangling her back onto the gurney but there was something on her face, an oxygen mask of some kind––

Tried to breathe and what came out was that hideous, slow, chilling sound… low, mechanical breathing… In an instant her whole body was frozen even as pain coursed through her again…

 _Vader––?!_

And then she was in that dark, cold place, that fucking cell only there was a hospital bed and they were shoving her onto it, and still the cold, low sound of breath…

Pinning her wrists down and splitting her legs wide, one of them moving between them––

She couldn't move, she couldn't move at all, she was kicking and she couldn't and there it was again, barreling through her, that _pain_ ––

One of the troopers holding down her arms whipped off his helmet. "I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you!" Luke said urgently, squeezing her forearm. "Push, Leia, push!"

 _But here's no baby!_ she wanted to say, but instead she shoved back the oxygen mask and screamed through the contraction while hands reached between her thighs. As Luke fastened the mask back over her face, she realized with a cold start that the Vader breathing had of course, of course, been coming from _her_ ––

And then another trooper whipped off his helmet as he forced her into sitting position and opened up the back of her gown, revealed himself to be Han, was squeezing her hand and saying, "You'll be fine, it'll help the pain, I got you––" Was swabbing a spot on her spine––

She breathed again and heard the cold rattle, then jerked her head just in time to glimpse the interrogation droid behind her back and its long, glimmering needle poised against her skin.

And then Vader's voice for real, all around her as she felt its deep plunge: _Where. Is. The. Base?_

She whipped off the mask and screamed for real – over and over, her throat _burning: STOP. PLEASE. STOP. STOP!_

" _I don't know anything, I don't, I don't – PLEASE––_ STOP! _PLEASE_ STOP! _PLEASE!_ _STOP! STOP!_ "

In a second Han was awake, grasping at the blaster on the bedside table and up on his feet, breathing hard. So was Ben. It took him a second to catch his breath, and then he saw Leia, thrashing wildly and tangled in the sheets. Rubbing his temples, he tried to focus: grab the screaming baby first, wake screaming Leia second, soothe the baby, soothe her, alright, yes, he could do that, on gods-know-how-few hours of sleep, sure, why the hell not.

He reached over her to pick up Ben, who was also thrashing, then perched beside Leia such that, as much as it pained him, the baby was angled away from her, just in case she flailed. Then he grabbed her upper arm firmly, trying to bop Ben at the same time: "Leia, you're dreaming, sweetheart, you're safe, I swear you're safe, just open your eyes––"

Leia kept screeching, whipping her head in a way that looked painful and appearing to try to crush her thighs together. "Please, _please_ – I don't know anything, _PLEASE_ ––"

Han tried to hold Ben closer, kissing the top of his head urgently and shaking her upper arm again."You're safe Leia, you're safe, I promise––"

She was sobbing in earnest now, her face soaked with hot, terrified tears, and still baby the screamed. " _PLEASE! Please –_ stop, please – don't touch me, please don't touch me, _please_ ––"

"Hey, Leia, look at me, open your eyes – you're not there, you're here, see, it's just me, just you and me, it's––"

" _PLEASE_ don't _TOUCH_ me!" She jerked away from him spastically, and then she was awake, eyes wide, hyperventilating, looking around the room in uncomprehending terror and slapping on a small light. "I – …" She looked at him, stricken, and scooted back while drawing her knees up to her chest. "I…"

"Breathe Leia, breathe." He reached out his free hand very slowly, the way he always did after these bouts, as though he wasn't also holding their wailing, inconsolable newborn. "C'I touch you here?" The same thing he always said.

"Wha – what––?" She couldn't quite hear him.

"C'I – _c'mon_ Ben, please…"

"I can––" She seemed to choke out the words, trying to steady herself. "I can try and – can – he's scared, he's scared, I should…" She held out her trembling arms to take him.

He doubted she could keep her knees from buckling right now, let alone hold the baby. "I got him," he said carefully.

"I should…" She started to move like she was possessed, her hands fluttering up and down her legs. "Couch. Sleep on the couch... " Pawed at her damp cheeks, patted her hair. "Sleep on the couch so I don't wake him again…" she mumbled decisively.

"Don't move, Leia," he said gruffly, reaching a hand in her direction but refraining from touching her. Tried to give her a weak, crooked smile: "You're next, promise."

"Han…"

"Just try to relax, okay? I'll be – one second, we'll be one second. Breathe for me."

She gave him a jerky nod and curled up on her side, wouldn't look at him. He could tell she felt mortified. Normally, mere seconds passed between her terrorized wake-up and him holding her tight, consoling her back to sleep. Somehow, the more processing time that was inserted the more embarrassed the whole thing made her feel.

Han headed into the main room, patting Ben on the back and trying to wake himself up, calm himself down, _fix this_. As he paced around the kitchenette and mumbled to the baby, he could hear her begin to softly cry in the bedroom.

"Ben," he pleaded softly, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. "Buddy, please…"

The baby continue to wail, and Han shifted him so he was up against his chest, leaning tiredly against the counter. "I know, I know, ya got a little spooked, not an easy way to wake up, but you're okay, everything's fine, your mama's fine…" He kept bouncing him, sighing deeply, trying not to hear Leia's quiet sounds. "She's fine, an' you're fine, an' everything's gonna be okay, promise." Sighed again, leaning more heavily against the counter. "Y'know there used to be a time, way long before I met your mam, when I could get by on no sleep at all, get some kaffe in me and ready to go, days in a row. Dunno what happened. Damned Rebellion sapped all my energy for the next three lifetimes, I guess. Or maybe m'just getting too old… now that's a scary thought..."

He kept mumbling, and Ben began to settle, blinking up at him slowly before shutting his eyes.

"That's right, there you go, there you go. See? You're all good. Mmkay." Moving slowly, he made his way back into the bedroom, pausing for a second in the doorway so he wouldn't startle Leia.

She was still on her side, but she mostly seemed to be staring straight ahead. Hesitant to put Ben down and risk the whole thing starting over again, he sat down beside her with the baby and hovered his hand over her forearm.

"Sweetheart? C'I touch you here?"

"Yes," she muttered, and he stroked her forearm with two fingers, sighing.

"You wanna tell me what it was about?"

She shook her head, her face still buried in the blanket.

"Y'sure? I don't mind."

Leia exhaled, turning to face the wall. "It... it was sort of like the Death Star and his birth… they were – messed up – put up – all mashed up together. The mask, my legs, the needle…"

He made a low, sympathetic sound, squeezed her arm gently.

"I scared him," she mumbled into the blanket.

"Princess, no…" He kept his voice soft, casting a wary eye at Ben.

"I woke him up. Han, our son – he'll never be able to sleep...!"

"I share your bed and I do just fine."

She was shaking again, hard. "You signed up for this. He didn't."

"Stop that, don't say that."

She jerked up suddenly, and he could see her whole anxious, tired face: red-rimmed eyes, pale face, shaking features. "What if he saw it?"

"Saw what?" he said edgily, trying to keep his voice quiet.

"Saw. You know…" She was staring straight at him. "Because I see inside his – I feel everything he – what if he…?"

"Nah," he whispered, tentatively reaching over to kiss her forehead. "Nah, Leia – he was just a little freaked out from the noise. Nothing like that. No way he saw that. Promise you."

"You don't know."

"I know. I know 'cause I know what you're like when you," he yawned, rubbing his eyes, "when you see that stuff, and it wasn't like that."

"...swear?"

"Swear."

"We have to be very vigilant about this, Han," she whispered. "I don't want to – I couldn't live with myself if I hurt him that way. If I allowed him to see those things."

"S'never gonna happen. Ever."

"Okay."

Leia bit her lip and reached out to take his hand. He squeezed it tightly. She sighed, glancing over at the baby. "Han, he's––" She jerked her chin at Ben, who had woken up silently and was now making small suckling sounds. So certain they would provide for him, so trusting.

"Oh." Frowned in spite of himself – "You think you'll be okay to––"

"Yes, I'm okay," she said, drawing a shaky breath. She sat up carefully, fingers shaking as she unbuttoned the damp nightgown.

Han scooted back so he was sitting beside her, his back against the headboard, and _finally_ wrapped his arm around her. It took all of his effort not to embrace her tightly, and even then his grip on her shoulder was firm. She took the baby from him, and he could see a hint of sadness wash back over her features, then get swallowed down. She was awake, now, no time for that. "There, now," she said softly as she brushed back some of his hair. "You're okay, aren't you? Yes, you're fine. I know, I know. I know all about it."

Once the baby was nursing she rested her head near his shoulder, shutting her eyes. He held her closer and kissed her temple once, twice, a third time. She yawned then nuzzled her cheek against his warm shoulder.

For a blessed two hours, before there was a newborn to re-soothe and a diaper to change, the tiny family held each other close and slept.

 _Have a lovely long weekend for those of you in the States. And let me know your thoughts – your comments are always appreciated! You can also find me on Tumblr under the same username!_


	3. 2: Slips

2: Slips

Had it been to naive, to think that in four years he had learned everything about her? Sure, he knew there were small gaps – he didn't know every detail of her life "back home," as she said; he didn't know the exact waves of sadness she'd ridden in the months after the Death Star; he didn't know the precise arithmetic of her constant assertion that "I'm not hungry," though he could guess. But otherwise, it seemed likely that if nothing else he _knew this woman_ – knew her, often, better than she liked to admit. Knew, for awhile there, things about her body she didn't, had the privilege of showing them to her. And yet Han was beginning to think maybe it was possible that there were still things about Leia he hadn't learned yet. Didn't know.

For example: until now, every time he saw her hair down it had been let down, as in from braids – crimped and frizzy and dynamic and _big_. The first time he'd seen it it had taken him aback – he'd be lying if he didn't admit he'd fantasized many times about seeing her hair down, but he'd never anticipated it would be so _explosive_. So static-y, literally shocking him as he'd buried his face in her neck. Shedding all over all of his things, marking him up almost like the way he loved to do to her neck, her breasts. So _Leia_.

Now, however, that days were passing without her leaving their unit, and that she was sleeping in short, unpredictable bursts, Leia hadn't been bothering to braid her hair, and as it dried down her back he began to realize that it was actually very fragile, very fine, very slick and silken. Like the seawomen they told faerie stories about, or the fragile nightgowns she'd taken to wearing in lieu of complicated buttoned blouses. It hung straight and soft down her back, making her stature look impossibly small, her makeup-free features impossibly delicate. Not a seawoman, then – a thin, ethereal ghost. "The days feel so slippery, Han," she murmured to him, wearing a sleepy, faraway look. "It's so surreal." His ghost.

He felt this way especially at night. When the baby stirred she was up in an instant, moving automatically like a possessed thing, so much so that he wondered if maybe she was still asleep or else hadn't gone to bed at all. In the dark, cold light of the evening her skin was cast deep blue, and he'd hear tiny whisperings that he could never quite make out – wondered often what she talked to him about. Pretended to be asleep and watched closely as she held the baby close and did a deep bend forward, her bare shoulder blades trembling as if she were keening, but quiet.

Was it better if she was awake or asleep? When he got up with Ben, bringing him to the other room to fetch the bottles she'd reluctantly prepared, she sometimes would appear in the doorway between the two rooms completely silently, scaring the crap out of him. She'd peer intently at something, then turn around and go back to bed. He'd known her to sleepwalk before – had had quite a task trying to make the Falcon Leia-proof, ensure that she wouldn't stumble into flipping some vital switch during her unconscious strolls. In the mornings, when he joined her in the kitchen – she was always up first, always at the table with the baby in his little carrier in front of her, reading and eating a single piece of fruit and looking beautiful and otherworldly, still and silent – he never knew what to say about it. Say, _Hey Princess, what's up with all that silent rocking business?_ Say, _Didja need like a glass of water or something last night, or was that just anxious sleepwalking, or...?_

Instead, he usually made her kaffe – she was hopeless with the maker, and he suspected she kept it that way because she liked having him do it for her, how it implied mornings together, so he indulged her on it, thought it kinda cute – and set it before her, and said "G'morning, gorgeous. Whatcha reading?"

And she smiled at him, that fragile little face framed in all that silky, slight babyhair – god _dammit_ she was young as hell, not even in an age way, just in a – he didn't know – naive – not naive, Leia was the furthest thing from naive – breakable way. Which sounded awful, and patronizing, and weird. It just made him feel like the stakes were always so _high_ with her. She was so _breakable_. Why did that feel like a guilty thought, like she'd be pissed as hell if she knew he'd be thinking that, seeing her that way? But how the hell else was he supposed to take those spooky midnight haunted looks of hers? And she said, her lips lifting into an ironic smile, "Oh – is it morning?"

Leia, Leia, Leia. On the day he went back to do work in the hangar he didn't fuss or hover or check in on her every hour – he knew she hated that, and that sort of thing bothered him anyway, felt possessive and weird. But he did think about her a lot, gliding through their two rooms, her hair a way he didn't know it ever was, whispering to the baby and prying her hair out of his tiny fists with a peeved smile. Her head somewhere he couldn't follow. For probably the first time ever he almost half wished he had the Force, could do what Luke did, get a better feel for her. _Leia, Leia, Leia._ If only 'cause this hair felt kinda different in his hands.

XX.

"I do agree that the challenge the situation presents is significant. By which I mean, I'm not trying to mince words – enthusiasm is a real hurdle and, ironically, it's only going to increase – or decrease I mean – as more and more systems experience the fruits of liberation and see their – share as having been done – completed. See their work as having been done, is what I mean."

Leia swallowed a yawn, sitting up a bit straighter in compensation. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Han on the couch, tinkering with some piece of machinery she was peeved about him hauling back from the Falcon and giving her a sour look. She folded her hands in her lap and went on: "But that's exactly why a surge of forces – reinforcements – would be so useful right now, capitalizing on the dwindling level of engagement among the Core Worlds."

Blurry and blue, the members of the assembled Provisional Council of the New Republic nodded slowly, their trepidation apparent even in the fuzz of the holo.

"Right, so therefore I think expanding recruitment efforts with regards to females is an obvious and frankly long overdue solution. We have a significant surplus in administrators and remote pilots and minor medics – all women eager to do their part for the Republic but not usually invited onto the front lines. So you'll get an automatic surge in ground forces with very minimal outreach or messaging required and a sharp increase in morale, it's very obvious – but yes, Jan, I do see you shaking your head––"

Dodanna's response was measured. "I think it is highly unlikely that messaging needs will be minimal."

"Agreed," Crix added quickly, his voice similarly calmly confident.

Leia pushed a loose lock from her braided bun out of her face. "And why is that?" she asked, trying to sound patient.

"Your Highness, such a policy could be seen as an indication of the New Republic's brutality," Crix explained. "Even the Empire did not resort to putting women on the front lines–"

"Will all due respect, we fought because the Empire was a hotbed of discrimination and persecution, ask any non-human sentient – Admiral, you understand me – or even ask any human female."

"I see why you might think such progressive policies might have a positive effect, but to some systems, it would be a major affront."

"I understand your frustration deeply, Princess," Ackbar said before she could speak, "but I do feel that it would be a disservice to our current forces to destabilize them right in the midst of a conflict."

"Destabilize...? I think that's unfounded – and I think we can all agree that the New Republic of our imagining would never bow before the prejudices of others." She gave a dark, close-lipped smile. "Even if those others are major weapons suppliers."

Han's gazed was fixed on her for a moment, his expression stiff but otherwise unreadable. He grunted and returned his attention to his work.

"Princess, no one is suggesting a concession to prejudice." Ah, there was Mon, steady and condescending and predictable. Good ol' Mon. "I think what we're trying to say is that a solution to our stalling recruitment efforts will be more complicated than merely–"

"I am not saying that my idea is a quick fix – I understand the complexity of the issue, but small numbers of women have been holding these roles for many years––"

Jan again: "Of course, no one is doubting your skill in combat, Princess–"

A decorated general she did not know: "And I do have to wonder, would such a policy span all species? The physical strength of males and females isn't equitable across all–"

"It doesn't seem feasible at this time, Princess, but I will ensure it remains noted in the record." Mon there, her voice neutral and measured and a little disappointed.

Leia felt her expression grow hard with the sting of embarrassment. "I remain uncomprehending of why I'm being so summarily dismissed. The inclusion of women amongst the Rebel leadership has always been a noble indicator of our values. The official inclusion of women fighting alongside men would only to serve in that – _is something wrong?"_ Suddenly, everyone in the holo had averted their eyes, was looking anywhere but at her.

"Ahem. _Princess_." Crix, whose entire head was turned dramatically away from her, cleared his throat empathetically.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked behind her – had Han stepped into the frame? – and then flicked her eyes downward. _Shit_. "Oh–!" _Shitshitshit––_ Leia jerked an arm over the wet patches on the front of her blouse, her posture ramrod. "I – if you excuse me, I'll be back in just a moment––"

"Ah, Princess, we're just about done here I'm sure we'll be able to finish up without you," Mon said quickly. "Please, take the time you need." The older woman re-angled such that Leia had view of only her, rather than the whole room.

"I did think I made it clear that no one expected you to be sitting in on these sorts of things and that the chaos might be more problematic than not. I look forward to working together when you return, but until then... Leia..."

Leia felt her face grow even hotter, her throat tight. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to better angle the coverage her now-crossed arms were barely providing. "I only need to change, Mon––"

"Leia, your station will be here when you're able to return from leave. I'll make sure you're contacted, as I promised you, if anything truly urgent arises." She pressed her lips together, then sighed. "Go – attend to your family. We will discuss further at a later time."

"Very well," Leia said tightly. To her horror, she was suddenly almost on the verge of hot, angry tears. "Best of luck with your afternoon." And clicked off immediately, squeezing her eyes shut and attempting to calm herself.

Han looked up from whatever he was engrossed in. "Done already?"

"I had to make a hasty exit." Leia yanked off her white blouse and camisole, then collapsed beside him on the couch, scowling.

He cringed sympathetically. "Yikes. Anyone notice?"

"Oh yes, just everyone but me. Jan helpfully pointed it out after five minutes or so." She frowned at the machinery on his lap – "This needs to move" – and rested her head on his thigh when he did so. "And when I said I'd be right back, they took me off."

"Whatdya mean they took you off?"

"They told me they'd be fine to finish up without me," she said crisply.

"The hell?"

"And then Mon lectured me about sitting in on meetings because apparently I'm chaotic and unprofessional and selfish."

"She didn't really say all that, d'she?"

"Not in so many words––" She frowned again, pressing the crumpled up discarded shirt to her breasts. "It's like they think I'm participating in government for fun, as though they're merely indulging me by accepting my presence – as though they haven't been relying on my alleged expertise since I was a teenager."

"Fuckin' morons," he agreed, stroking her hair.

"At the very start, they kept looking at me like I was a complete imbecile, or some species they'd never seen before. It wasn't like I was _unkempt_ – I put on makeup and a nice top, I made sure the room behind me was all cleaned up – do you know how long it's been since my hair... well, I suppose you do––... It's like when I was pregnant, how whenever I met with foreign officials they would just stare at my belly once I was introduced as the diplomat? Except it's people I've known my entire life – _honestly_."

"They're all idiots. Least now you don't have to deal with them as much."

She sat right up at that. "I _want_ to be dealing with them."

"Yeah, but if Mothma's really insistent on cutting you out for your leave – maybe s'not such a bad thing."

"Ah," she said, her expression darkening. "I understand."

"What do you understand," he challenged.

It sounded ridiculous, to say he wanted her at home. She knew that wasn't it. "Nothing."

"No, go ahead and say it."

She sighed. "I know you don't want me to just stay home. But when I told you I had this meeting you got so angry and it makes me feel––"

"Wasn't angry."

"You got very stony."

"You're not supposed to be exertin' yourself, remember? Said it in medical."

"It's a _call_."

"It's been fourteen days, princess – and the first few weren't pretty."

"I cannot believe you're siding with _Mon Mothma_ instead of me."

"I'm not siding with her. t's a load of crap that they're treating you different – but if they're gonna keep you at arm's length, at least you'll have more time to eat and sleep and take care of yourself."

She laughed once. "Ah, sleep. I remember sleep."

"Yeah? And wasn't it nice?"

"I haven't slept uninterrupted as long as you've known me, hotshot."

"Coupla nightmares s'not the same as a day and a half straight."

"All your son," she accused lightly, lying back down to rest her head on his thigh again. He returned to stroking her hair.

"Y'know I think you're goddamn brilliant," he said in a low, gruff voice. "Fuck everyone else. I _know_ you're brilliant."

Her voice came out quiet: "Yes, I know."

"Good." He moved on to stroking her cheek lightly.

"Do you remember when he went down?"

"Mm... maybe an hour ago?"

"So we've got another hour." She sighed softly, began to stare off at the wall. _Go attend to your family. Go attend to your family. Go. Go. Go._ "I'm glad you're here," she said distractedly. "It's nice having company."

He exhaled heavily. "I can be here way, way more, sweetheart."

"Well, we can't both go crazy," she murmured lightly. "Somebody's got to be the grownup, interact with other grownups. Remember how to wear shirts and speak in full sentences and not smell like throw-up."

"If anyone's the grownup, it's you."

"Yes, well. This morning I almost put lip-liner on my eye, so."

"Fashion Icon Leia Organa."

"Forever and always, looking fabulous in her white on white ensemble, with stretch-marks as the latest, greatest accessory."

"You miss it," he said sympathetically, touching her hair. "You wanna get back."

"It's not time yet," she dismissed, but her voice sounded tired and disappointed. "I can barely – he's hungry every two or three hours and he's so tiny. And everything still hurts. And I still feel so...raw, emotionally... he feels everything so _intensely_ , Han, I can't even begin to explain." She sighed softly. "And even when I get back, I'll still have had a baby – it won't be any different, you know?"

"I hate that," he said tightly. "I hate that you – I hate that you feel like people won't––"

"I've been a young woman my whole adult life," she mumbled, her eyes flickering shut. "It's the same thing, only tenfold."

"Yeah, but you didn't choose that."

She knew the responses that were allowed: either _I wouldn't change a thing_ or else _I didn't choose this either_ , but neither felt right – she would probably change _some_ things, and she did choose this, sort of, albeit from limited options. Instead, she merely made a small, neutral sound into his thigh, squirming in the uncomfortable tension in the room.

The moment disappeared, however, with the harsh sound of the door's buzzer – and Ben's predictable crying. Leia, still topless and not particularly eager to be seen, slipped into the bedroom while Han stalked to the door.

"Can you not read the damn sign, or––" (They'd tacked up a sign to their door that said, in far blunter terms, that ringing the buzzer was highly discouraged, given its tendency to wake the baby.) As he flung open the door, however, it was clear that it was merely a mail droid, already onto the next unit. "Dammit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and tugging the package inside. Leia, having tossed on the poncho, was already pacing the main room and patting Ben's back.

"Oh – that must be from Shara..." She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration as Ben gave a particularly loud wail. "See, 'loved? It's just mail, it's nothing to cry over – I know it's frustrating to be woken up, but you wake us up every few hours and we still love you." Han grinned in spite of himself, and she shot him a withering, exhausted look. "I know, I know... shh, darling, it's for you, it's for you, how lovely. Don't you know to be grateful when somebody gives you a gift?" She turned to Han again – "Could you open it, please?" – and returned to bouncing the baby, settling onto her knees on the floor. "Honestly Ben, where are your manners – didn't your mother ever teach you – look, see? Look at your Da. See? It's okay. I know, I know. It's okay, I promise. Shh..."

Han unhinged the container, peering inside. "Hand-me-downs?" he guessed.

"Yes – here, he's calmed down a bit, can you take him?"

He tried not to feel stung at _can you_ – of course he could, what did she mean by that – and merely said, "'Course," reaching out. She handed him the baby carefully, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, holding him easily and stroking his hair. Ben blinked up at him sleepily, and he gave him a little smile.

Leia reached into the box and first pulled out a holochip. When she went to play it, Shara Bey's image – and a bit of Poe's, running around her feet – was in their room. "Use it all in good health," she said, smiling easily at them, and Leia felt a surge of envy – she looked so calm, so at ease, so natural. "And I know you're being private about photos, rightfully so, but Poe is just about dying to see 'Baby Ben,' so – just something to keep in mind. Love to you both. Hey – _Poe!"_

Leia bit her lip, sitting up to unload the container. Shara really was a lifesaver, she had to admit, pulling out a serious amount of sturdy baby clothes, their sizes progressing. Leia had never been particularly girlish, never cooed at tiny things, and she didn't now – the itty-bitty socks with a constellation print only inspired in her thoughts about how easy they'd be to lose – but she did feel a sharp pang. Ben would get bigger, she realized not for the first time. Life would move forward – he'd grow into someone – it was up to her to make that person someone good and strong and ethical... "I don't know what we would've done otherwise," she said after a long silence, running her fingers over a blue onesie. "I can't even begin to imagine where we'd get all sizes of baby clothes – getting the diapers was task enough..."

"Yeah," Han mumbled, also lost in thought. He was thinking about what it meant to dress their son in these secondhand, hand-me-down clothes – how it was practical, appealed to his frugality. How he'd been surprised, even though he really shouldn't have been, that Leia had become almost obsessively frugal too, peeved during pregnancy at the prospect of buying maternity things.

And yet. What did it mean that they'd put some other kid's clothes on Ben not because of necessity, the way _he'd_ worn infinite hand-me-downs as a kid, but as a values assertion, an almost – privileged statement of, what, how down-to-earth they were? Leia was right, getting baby things was difficult, but it wasn't impossible – and it was only difficult because they lived on a remote military base, which they did for their work, not because of any real need – plus they had the money, plenty of it. And hadn't he always salivated at the prospect of new shoes as a kid, shoes all his own, that didn't know any feet other than his, that fit him perfectly instead of basically? Was he doing something wrong, really wrong, if he was actually in a position he could never have predicted – a position to give his kid the whole world – and instead he opted not to?

All the gifts coming into her office, that weren't really for Ben anyway, that Leia had immediately had shipped and distributed to diasporic orphanages, anything too decadent to be useful sold and used to buy more practical supplies for those children – she'd said without blinking that as a child she always got to choose one or two presents that she especially liked and then the rest were given away to orphanages, would that make sense for Ben? It put a strange feeling in his stomach, thinking of her holding court at six or seven, examining each absurd gift and finally selecting her prize. And some little needy kid left with a fancy porcelain doll a princess had declined, when what she really needed was a new sweater... but that was really, _really_ unfair...

They'd talked about this. Sort of. Enough that he knew she didn't want to raise Ben like a prince or anything like that, that she hardly even wanted a house and hated being waited on, that she was anxious about putting too much value in objects because they were so wont to be left behind in a quick escape. But sometimes he wondered if she thought it was somehow _appealing_ , to only have three pairs of pants? And that that was because she got to _choose_ that way of living instead of having it thrust upon her?

(But she didn't really choose – that wasn't right – everything she owned had been destroyed time and time again – the Rebels had always been poorly supplied in tiny women's clothing – Alderaanian custom and her own intense preferences made her options limited – Leia wasn't like that, this _really_ wasn't fair, why was he even thinking this way, fuck it all...)

"This is sweet," she murmured softly, pulling his attention back to her. He glanced over – she was holding footie pajamas with planets on them, running her thumb absently over a blue-green swirl he knew she'd automatically seized as home.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Crazy he'll get that big."

"I heard they sometimes grow into a full-sized person," she whispered conspiratorially, her grin tired and worn.

"Crazy," he mumbled, touching Ben's forehead.

"Crazy," she agreed.

XX.

 _My fellow citizens – It feels so strange to address you in this way, so formally and yet from so far away. While I cannot reveal my precise location––_

 _While I've been told discretion is a necessity, know that where I am right now feels terribly different from home._

 _So different from home._

 _So different from our home. The air is stale and unmoving – the ground cold clay. A nowhere place. I am sure wherever you read this from feels very different, too. I find myself measuring every planet this way – hotter, colder, larger, drier, and so on. Home will always be the norm against which all else is measured._

 _Home. I've been thinking about it quite frequently, for reasons you might imagine. My husband and I were so happy to welcome our son into the world two weeks ago. This world. The world. Two weeks ago. And I haven't written since because––_

 _Because..._

 _My husband and I. So happy. Welcome into the world, with needles and split open legs and low blood pressure and fainting – fainting and stitches – premature and anxious – something I did? Was it something I did? Captain Solo, my husband. My husband and I._

 _My husband and I. My husband. My husband and I. My husband – whom you like, and respect, correct? Because love marriages – my parents were – and he is so good. So good to me. Whom you like and respect because surely Alderaanians aren't the ones posting those vile things on the holonet, or sending those hideous messages to my office, the ones that make it so that sharing a photo of my son makes me so very, very anxious? That make me wake up in the middle of the night poised over his cradle, watching him in sleep? Surely._

 _"Damn this traitorous slut and her disgusting filth offspring."_

 _Yes, that sounds more like lingering Imperials. I mean, "traitorous?" Surely._

 _(Because I have honored every tradition, even the ones I railed against as a child as being patriarchal or old-fashioned – honored them in my way at least. And surely that's enough––)_

 _Does it feel different, now, living somewhere with weapons? The first time I walked down a street in Coruscant and saw an armed guard I flew into a panic, so sure something was wrong. Is it frightening, to know that the rest of the galaxy lives in this constant state of alertness, of waiting for someone to try to kill you? But I suppose we know that, now. Know it deeply._

 _(Is it true, do you think, about the teenage mother who named her child Leia and then took her own life? That she gave birth just a few days after me? Is that really possible?)_

 _(What did she know about me that made her name her daughter after me, and is it adjacent to the thing inside her that made her decide to leave this life?)_

 _(Do you hate me that I couldn't name him Bail? That it felt like too much – not even for him but for me, that I couldn't do it to myself, say my father's name constantly – that I dream of interactions between him and Han, now him and Ben too, that I dreamt myself a whole adjacent wedding? My mother – our queen – fixing my hair just so? My father giving me away, shaking Han's hand firmly, smiling wide?)_

 _(Do you think I did this? Do you believe in this new government like I do or do you resent it, knowing that Alderaan had prospered – resent losing everything for the sake of the Rebellion designed to undo the system that privileged us as members of a Core World? Do you ask what was it for, a few lousy non-human sentients, a few dirty brutes in the Outer Rim?_

 _Or were you raised generous and empathetic, like my parents raised me? Like I'll try to raise a child?)_

 _Tradition is a funny thing. Somedays I find myself wearing all white the way Han wears sweatpants, even though we're married now, because it makes me feel comfortable and like I'm at home. Once when I did my hair it was instinctive, now I move with the conscious desire to memorize – I think through memories obsessively note-taking in another corner of my mind – I cannot let my mother's face wash over me because I am desperately trying to preserve every detail. For who? For what?_

 _For Ben, maybe? He won't be Alderaan's prince, the same way I'll never be its queen – a lineage frozen in time, in carbonite, in the fine white ash I'm said home looks like now. And it'd be silly to be prince, anyway, of a place you've never set foot on. A place where a foot could never step. And yet. He'll know the names of trees he's never seen, I hope, and he'll know all of the folk tales, the strange aphorisms, the Old Language. The cuisine, if I can figure out how to cook – right now Han and I play a sad little game wherein I try to guess what foods from home were made of, and he makes it, and I say no, it was a little more this flavor, and he adds that, and we go on and on and we are never perfect but we do get closer every time. The story, when he's old enough, of a whole wide world rendered very small, very fine, very fleeting._

 _I feel so much sadness, so often. I wake up in the morning and I feel sadness and I go to sleep at night and I feel sadness. It was dormant for awhile, and now it seems so much more acute. I worry he can feel it. I think about the infant named after me, I wonder if she felt it. I wonder if it'll be passed down into this new generation, through our blood. Solemnity, sadness. A peculiar plague for space orphans without a home that isn't shrapnel._

 _So many other things are in my veins, though. Like endurance, and righteousness, and what Carlist affectionately calls my "moxie." And so many other things beyond sadness punctuate these long, delirious days that find me topless and aching and tired more often than not. The way it's easier for Ben to wrap my hair around his fingers, because it's so long. An appreciation for all the sleepless nights my mother endured for me. The ability to say "Da" and "Mama" for the first time in years without my throat tightening, even if it's to talk about myself in the third person half the time... a long blue sadness with a few glimmering lights... like space, maybe... hyperspace..._

 _Damn it all._

 _I can't send any of this, can I? Say any of this, can I?_

 _Not what people are looking for – someone else's break down – people need to see – they want – someone to model what strength is, survival is, someone to show it'll be okay – it'll be fine––_

 _I can't, I can't. I can't._

 _Your comments seriously mean so much to me – even the briefest ones. Also, I sometimes post snippets of sillier, lighter pieces on my tumblr, which is under the same name, if you're interested in seeing Leia jam to some punk, etc._


	4. 3: Well

_This chapter is more transitional – apologies that it's on the shorter side. It gets us somewhere important, I promise!_

3: Well

"This is the most special time of the day, you know. Here's why. Are you listening? Okay, well. It's very quiet, but it's light out, so it doesn't feel like you're sneaking around or doing something wrong. It's the start of the day, so you're still very optimistic about all you're going to get done, and not feeling behind on anything. It's perfectly okay to still be in your pajamas and not have put your makeup on, because it's very early still. And if you run into anyone, they will probably be too tired to talk, or even notice you really, and they'll just shuffle right past you. Morning hours, 0500? This is our time, in our family – always has been our time." She yawned slightly, relishing in the singular clarity these secret morning walks through the sparse base quarters, Ben in his stroller, had started to bring her. She found that she could settle the frantic intensity of Ben's emotional bleedthrough when she spoke to him, and so she did often, whispering whatever she could think of. Before everyone else woke, they wandered the halls and owned them, the baby who still shouldn't be around too many strangers, his mother who was wearing only her white nightgown and white socks and didn't leave her unit otherwise.

She smiled at him lightly, continuing her shuffle – what a relief, to walk more than just around the room, to feel like a citizen of the base. "I used to – mm, I used to do morning walks around home when I was young, and I would run into my father in one hall, my mother in the other – all of us contemplating the day ahead, caught in our own private quiets… we'd smile at each other but honor each other's solitude… the quiet world... you can share mine for now, though, I like sharing it with you, you're an excellent listener, that's very important. A lovely skill. Something I love about you…"

Ben began to squirm a bit, and she lifted him up and held him tightly to her, pushing the tram with her other hand. "I know, I know," she said, and she felt warm and proud as his relief upon being gathered up into her arms washed over her. "I know." The little bright light she could feel when he heard her voice. "I know, I like to be held too. I like to be held very close to-o-o––…."

Her voice trailed off abruptly and she stopped short upon seeing another form in the hallway. Was that – who _was_ that getting kissed goodbye before slipping out of Luke's room? She was frozen, they didn't seem to notice her, that was good – oh, nope, of course––

 _[Gooood morning, sis.]_

She felt sloppy and gross, she was still in a nightgown, she wasn't wearing a bra, she – had she been so absorbed and so isolated that she didn't notice that Luke was – _seeing_ someone? Was he _seeing_ someone?

 _[Are you going to come in, or…?]_

She was still meters away from him. Right. _[We're just on our morning walk.]_

 _[Well you might as well come in, have some breakfast.]_

 _[I'm not dressed, I––]_ Why did she suddenly feel so bad? So guilty? How had she not noticed––

"Leia," he said aloud, waving, giving her a raised-eyebrow smile. "Come inside."

She could make this right, yes – "Coming," she said, even though she was in her nightgown, even though she was in her socks. For a fleeting moment she was worried she wouldn't be able to remember, what it was to talk to another adult. She put it aside and put Ben back in the stroller. "Yes, love. Let's go spend some time with your uncle and accost him about his lover, eat that breakfast which we are always lying about…" He flickered into calm and relief upon her voice again and she felt calm and relief too. Was this how it was always going to be? Him and her as an instant feedback loop, as one person again? Alright, then. Alright. "We're coming…"

XX.

Day started off in an empty bed, empty cradle next to it, but that wasn't new – Leia kept crazy hours these days, had to, and the problem was he would wake up when Ben cried but she had that uncanny ability to wake up _before_ he cried, and he was always telling her he had to wake him up too, damn, let herself sleep, and she always said _of course, it's not like I_ want _to be up like this_ with a big eyeroll, and then she never did, he was going to have to start setting himself an alarm or something, every three hours, damn. _Damn_.

When he moved into the other room, though, there was nothing, only a blinking datapad with a message: _Gone to Luke's with the baby; have a nice day; we love you._

He nodded to himself, made some kaffe. We love you. We, you. _We_ love _you._ What would it be like, he wondered mildly as he reached for some toast, when Ben could speak on his own? Coming home and asking _how's my boy today_ and it not being Leia who answered. Was that – that was sort of a jerk thought, wasn't it? He was always proud of the fact that he wasn't possessive, even though everyone seemed to think he was – ribs about don't get too close to the princess 'less you want Solo after you, plus all that crap she was telling him about _nah princess, not letting you ride along, not going to risk Solo's wrath if something happens_ – he wasn't liked that. Men who were like that? Grossed him out. She was a person, that's why he loved her – loved that person. And he wasn't planning on being a possessive dad or anything like that, either.

We, you. We love you.

Heading to the hangar, thinking about how he used to collect times Leia said "we" like stray washers in his pockets – we won't be back until, we'll need these accommodations, we'll be reporting back in a few hours. Lining them up to see what they added up to: was that a smirk in her voice? Was she _finally_ caving? An old pastime-chore he didn't have to do anymore – knew what it added up to, 'cause it added up to they had a baby together, were married, lived in two rooms. Kept their clothes in the same drawers, he was forever putting on her tiny sheer socks in the disorientation of morning. Kept their baby in the cradle next to the bed. Her side of the bed.

He didn't greet anyone, had lost his patience with the new dad ribbing, whole world seemed to think the idea of a father giving a damn about his own son – actually changing diapers, actually wanting to be home – was a joke. Slid under some impossible X-wing and got to work – this is what he was doing now? Doing someone else's impossible repairs? Running in place on this godforsaken base – he knew Leia felt that way too at least, like she was trapped here, felt desperate to get off-world. Back to work. "I miss our bunk," she'd mumbled into his neck some few nights ago when he was holding her and they were doing the charade of lying down for a full night of sleep. Our, we. Ben had never seen the bunk. Ben had never seen the Falcon.

He wedged a wrench onto a particularly disobedient bolt and tried to turn it hard to the sound of _yet._ Ben hadn't seen the Falcon _yet._

Hadn't seen the Falcon but he'd seen apparently the inside of Leia's head in addition to the whole inside of her body, and she was always talking to him softly, whenever he talked to him he felt sort of ridiculous, and why was he comparing the two of them anyway, what the hell was that?

There was an easy fix, he thought, not for the first time – wherever Leia saw impossible situations he saw quick rigs and go-arounds and _solutions._ She wanted to get back to herself, to not feel so crazy and strung-out and delirious. And he wanted to get (back?) to being a father. So…?

"You're not taking him with you to work in the _hangar_ ," she'd said, horrified. "Are you _serious_?"

That wasn't what he'd meant, actually, not quite – meant more like, _or I could stay here and look after him?_ Or on the Falcon with Chewie and the baby, just doing what needed doing there because did she really think he gave a crap about this contracted repair work he felt certain the Alliance was only giving him because he was the husband of the precious princess? Did she really think he _cared_ about this? Because he didn't. He really, really didn't.

But that was the thing about Leia and the baby. She was – honestly, possessive probably wasn't too far off base, he thought with a grimace as he twisted harder. It wasn't out of control or weird or anything – just that she was used to being his first responder so she always was. And like, what was she supposed to do, really? Indulge him and "give him a turn"?

In the darkest blue hours of the night when she was doing that keening thing, the hold the baby close and dip back and forth thing, which even though she swore it soothed him he had doubts about, she'd once mumbled something about _jealous_ , something like _you've got friends, you've got more people to talk to._ And when he'd said _M'not your friend?_ she'd clarified and he almost understood except didn't she realize that like, just because there were people like Chewie didn't mean he was going to stroll right up to his pal and say – _things feel off, Leia seems off, everything's so not-right it's giving me a headache but she won't admit to any of it being not normal and I feel so fucking crazy._ Yeah, he wasn't.

Noticing the changing shape of her hips, asking, "You had lunch, right? What did you eat?"

Her peeved eye roll. "Would you like me to type up all of my meals and send them to you in a report, Captain?" Maybe the change was just a trick of his memory? He felt _so fucking crazy_.

As he moved to welding his mind drifted to the episode over the weekend, when she'd asked him to take Ben to a doctor's appointment during which she'd had a meeting with Mon. A meeting scheduled for a weekend morning? "Yes," she'd said, "so would you please do me this one thing? It's just a routine thing, his weight and such."

"Just his weight?"

She'd bit her lip, admitted, "It's shots as well. I can't – you can do it? You can do this for me?"

"Yeah," he said, trying not to dwell on the phrasing. "Of course."

At the med center, they'd been nice enough, though made sure he knew about the hassle of acquiring infant-dose vaccinations – he thought in a fit of frustration _I can do that, let me do that, I know how to get shit like that done!_ – and of course asked, "Where's the princess? She okay?" What everyone wanted to know when he was out and about with Ben, which granted wasn't all that often 'cause his immune system was still weak and they were both wary of the growing New Republic interest in Ben as a symbol of resolution and new beginnings, interest that meant people loved to _touch him_ to no end – Where Was The Princess? Where Was His Mama? _Kriff._

He'd had to hold Ben quite tightly for the injections and the severity of his scream made him wonder in a horrible guilty flicker if maybe he'd gotten that from Leia. He was shocked, too, about how much that piercing scream left him wounded and protective – the look he gave the doctor, who really was just doing his job, was seething, and he ditched the tram and instead held him very, very close, that smushed heartbeat grasp Leia favored, the whole walk back. Felt angry and on edge.

Back in the unit she'd been waiting, her meeting either quick or a sham to get out of needles, he didn't care either way, and she lept to her feet. Ben had calmed down but the excitement freaked him out again and she was suddenly holding the baby close, saying "Shh…," but the look she was giving Han was one of – he couldn't explain it. The way she looked at him, concerned and empathetic. Like for once they were in it together.

"You want your da?" she'd said, burying her face in his hair. "Okay, I know, I know…" Handed him back the baby and said, chewing on her lip and watching them, "Oh, I feel so awful… poor little thing…"

He'd smiled sympathetically. "Think the commotion scared 'im more than anything else. Doctor making a big deal. Probably didn't even hurt at all."

"Do you think – was that maybe the first time he experienced pain, do you think?"

He held Ben close as he dared, bouncing and stroking and patting until the crying stopped. "It's possible," he'd said, moving to the bedroom to put him in the cradle.

"Mm," Leia had said, and in a rare-these-days moment of unbridled affection wrapped her arms around him from behind, rested her cheek on his back. "Lucky he had you to help him through…"

Lucky he had you. Rare these days. Night when she'd laid down to catch some sleep after putting down the baby and he'd actually laid down with her, even though it was still early in the evening – had there really been a time when they were up all night, talk and sex and plans? Gotten undressed and everything, pulled her into his arms. She'd groaned something about her breath, her hair – not showering. He'd kissed her neck – chastely, he thought – and held her close. Now that they passed out from exhaustion more often than headed to bed this kind of deliberate falling-asleep embrace was a lot rarer – sleep sometimes found them with his head where his feet should be, or with her lying flat across him, or her body halfway off the bed. Leia in his boxers and a t-shirt passed out with her head tangling off the bed, hair all splayed out, drooling – jerking up and saying "What! What! What time is it!" and then immediately passing back out.

So – holding her. Feeling how her body had changed since the last time he held her – trying to not feel crazy – he didn't know a thing about this but she seemed awfully – well… thinking of the first time he held her in those insane months after Endor, when it was beginning to hit him that she was actually _his_ – she'd sleepily pressed his hand to the barely-there curve of her abdomen. Said, "too late to back out now, hotshot" and promptly started snoring. He could've held his hand like that for hours.

She'd groaned again, though, and rolled away from him. "Need… two minutes… t'myself…" she'd mumbled, stretching out her arms and pressing her face into the pillow. "Mm… sorry…"

He'd laid back and tried not to feel burned. Did she think he was trying to get something out of her? Time to herself – did time together no longer, what, count…?

Did she have to act like she was doing this all alone? He _wanted_ to – was _trying_ to – if she would just––

Ben hadn't seen the Falcon. How was that possible?

It was this fucking place, he thought as he shoved two uncompromising pieces together. This fucking place, this isolation, this place where they couldn't even buy a damn pacifier, where there weren't doctors who knew how to deal with babies and where a whole little clique of Alliance elites wanted to make his kid the posterchild for peacetime, this place where he was doing bullshit work that meant nothing to him, where something was off with Leia, where there were no other kids – what kind of place was that, to be raising someone?

How could they just give him a life of being shoved into spaces that weren't built for him? Tucked beside a frantic Leia while she made calls, wearing worn cloth diapers and abstaining from formula because they didn't want to start relying on anything store-bought in case their sourcing broke down, his new little bedroom so sparse 'cause they never had the time or energy to unpack when they'd probably be leaving at the three month mark anyway? It didn't seem right, didn't feel right – weren't they supposed to give him everything?

But what the hell did _that_ look like – following Kes and Shara into obscure domesticity and giving up everything they cared about – she cared about? That was so – _fucked_ … how could he even think like that? How could he even think about asking something like that of her? Of himself? Had to be another way to carve out a life, there had to. He could find a solution. Rig something together. He could.

XX.

Around the time Han came home she was sitting on the floor of what would eventually be the baby's bedroom, talking to Ben and leaning up against Artoo, who had been brought to project the scene Luke was now painting onto the wall – the ridges of mountains from behind the palace back home. "And I used to go on many walks," she was saying softly, smiling every time the baby cooed his interest, "and many adventures. My da and I would go exploring, on the weekends – one time we almost got lost… he taught me about the difference between poisonous and safe, for berries and leaves, which is a very important skill. He was the smartest man I ever knew – you'll get a sense of that, I'm sure."

Luke, sketching out another rolling hill with surprising ease, smiled. "I like how you're always talking to him," he said, reaching up his brush.

"It calms him down, gives him something to focus on. Yes, you're very inquisitive, aren't you?"

"And I like that you don't talk to him in that baby voice people always use…"

"Oh, I always hated when adults talked down to me. Did not like to be patronized." She tapped Ben's nose, and he almost smiled, she was sure. "Right? You're very smart, you don't like to be patronized. I know, 'loved, yes. Yes." She looked up, smiled slightly. "That looks very pretty, Luke."

"Thank you. Glad I caught you guys in the hall – I feel like I haven't seen my handsome nephew in _far_ too long."

"Hasn't been so long, has it?"

"Kinda has been…"

"Right. I just – I've been very. Out of it. Isolated, you know. All that. Apparently didn't even know you'd taken up with––"

"It's complicated, he and I have been friends for awhile, it's a big mess," Luke said, making a face." _I_ barely know what's going on half the time, so––"

"Still."

"You uh, you feel like you've been out of it?"

"Isn't it obvious," she murmured, playing with Ben's fingers in her hair lightly.

"It sort of… is," he admitted. "Not in any – like you're a new mom, the whole nightgown plus womprat's nest of hair isn't anything unexpected––"

"Flattered."

"You just seem a little – not-you."

"Mm." She let Ben's fingers curl and uncurl around her thumb lightly. "Well, that seems – right…"

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she said, not looking at him, looking only at the baby, her expression neutral and tight.

Luke kept staring at her, then prodded gently, "In what way?"

"I feel like someone else," she admitted numbly. "I feel – tired, and aching. I feel very alone."

"Alone how?"

"I don't know. Just alone."

"Have you talked to Han––"

"I just feel a bit like not a person. I feel so – I feed him every three hours, I change him, he's – the only consistent presence in my – I feel _everything_ he feels and––"

"Maybe it would be good to try to work on some more shielding," he suggested gently, coming to sit beside her.

"No, it's not – that's the – thing that's sustaining me. That, him – otherwise I'm just so – isolated in here, locked away, conferencing into a call every once and awhile, never able to wear clothes... I feel dumb, Luke, I don't feel like Leia, I feel like some other girl."

"Some other girl how?"

"Everything I know how to do is useless with him. He doesn't care – what I can – and he needs me so… I don't – it's so complicated. I just feel. What I feel is. Very lonely. Is what I was trying to say. So."

"Maybe," he ventured gently, "I could take the baby for an evening, so you and Han could have some alone time…"

Her response was so scathing and immediate that he jerked back: "That's not for another two weeks."

"Okay, not what I meant––"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, squeezing her eyes shut, "Maybe I should be – _giving_ him something to _tide him over_ , I don't––"

"Han isn't like that and you know it."

"I know,I just. I feel like – I'm not being – a very good _wife,_ I suppose but I just – don't have energy to – I don't know… be more… I just feel so…"

The baby started to fuss, and she moved to take him to her breast, pressing her lips together. "He wants me to – pump, more," she said tightly, "so it doesn't always have to be me – getting up. It hurts and feels so clinical, I hate it."

"Leia," he said seriously, reaching out to touch her leg. "You don't seem well."

(Han, who'd been listening since maybe the shielding part, felt his chest tighten. No _shit_ she didn't seem well. No _shit._ )

"You don't get it – Luke, I feel _everything_ he feels, I feel – with nothing to distract me, nothing I care about, just diapers and nursing – it's _hard_ , it's hard _work_ ––"

"I know, but that doesn't change that you – I mean, you look thin, Lei."

"Hardly thin," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thinner – you're kinda – being short-tempered and fading in and out, you're just––"

"Anything else?"

His voice dropped. "Have you thought about maybe seeing someone about – thinking about – post-partum––"

"Mm, okay. This has been fun," she said quickly. "But he's going to doze off after the other, so––"

"I didn't mean to offend you, or – I just – _worry––_ "

"Hey," Han said, stepping in casually. "What's going on, guys?"

"Hi there," Leia said automatically, "how was your day?"

"You all painting?"

"Luke's a wonder with a brush," she said, returning her focus to Ben. "It's the view, from home?"

"I like it." He sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, looking at Luke pointedly. _No shit she didn't seem well, no shit…_ She was rigid in his arms.

"Guess I'll head out then," Luke said after a short pause. "So you guys can have some _time_ together. Let me know when you want to keep working. C'mon Artoo."

"Alright," she said, nodding. "Thank you."

He gave her a meaningful look, and then they were alone.


	5. 4: Hours

_I am SO sorry for the delay – will try to get the next chapter out super-quick._

4: Hours

Leia looked at her husband's hands around her and thought with a flicker of affection and anxiety about the first hours after Ben's birth, about waking up with the mask on her face and with needles in her arms and feeling like she'd been run over by a tank and barely able to lift her head. Flicking her eyes open, then to the side, and seeing Han with his head bowed, the baby in his arms, his face deeply creased with worry. Jaw tight. Just looking.

Her hushed voice muffled by the mask: "good look for you." Coming out loopy and garbled. How he'd immediately jerked up and all the rigidity collapsed out of his body with his relief, and she'd thought, _Did I do that? I did that to you?_ A power she'd like to return, bring back to the store.

"How are you feeling?" His voice a low, reverent whisper. _Who_ was _this man?_

She had smiled and had tried to give a small shrug but it was mostly a twitch and instead she moved the hand closer to him to reach out, wiggling her fingers. _Baby please, bring me our baby please?_ "He okay?" _He. He._ Something to get used to, someone to get used to, someone to refer to, somebody real. Was he real? She could hear the din of the med center, this little world only held together by a few curtains, everything as it was just a few feet away. Surreal.

"Mmhmm, he's perfect."

"Toes an'…?"

"Ten of each. Perfect like I said."

"Give him – me – Han… please…"

He nodded slowly, looking a bit skeptical but resolved. "Alright, let's try this, okay?" And he'd carefully put the baby on his back just beside her face so other than resting a protective hand on his back – warm, fluttering, _real_ – she didn't have to move.

Remembered his little face and watching him squirm just a tad and make the smallest sounds, his little fist, his blinking blue eyes and thinking okay, this, this – this is what comes next – this is what I do next – I can do this…

And she'd murmured, or tried to, " _Hello, you. Do you know me? I know you. I'll look after you, I'll keep you safe..._ " So confident in this even though she couldn't move. She remembered feeling totally out of it, totally spinning, but fixated on this little point. Flashes of the hours before – had she cried out loud for her mother, did that really happen, as they wheeled her down the hall? And before that, her back –… but still, _this_ now, this… Thinking towards Han – _thank you, thank you…_

In retrospect, why did she feel like this baby was something he'd given her, passed off when she'd woken up feeling like garbage, placed by her face – thank you, thank you, thank you for this thing that's what comes next for me, this thing I will succeed at looking after, this time I will successfully protect it – him – I can do this, thank you for giving me the chance to do this right… giving _me_ , you _giving_ to me, you _gave_ this to me, like you _gave_ me myself back, I don't––?

"How was your day?" Leia repeated, blinking out of her haze and shifting Ben to her other breast.

"You already asked me that." His voice was tight, half-teasing, half-edgy. _Lovely, perfect._

She matched his tone. "You didn't answer."

"Fair." He rested his head on the top of hers and she thought sure, why not – the edges of her body were already so blurred, it seemed appropriate to have him draped around her at the end of his day while the baby seemed determined to ensure that she never think of anything other than pain in her nipples, a human coat-rack, a Good Lover, a wife and mother. But he'd never made her feel that way – not about anything, not about _sex_ , where was this sex thing coming from anyway, he wasn't – he'd never, ever been like that.

Well surely he wanted to get back to it but it wasn't like anything would be "back" to the way it was for some time anyway and also that was unfair but still it kept ringing through her head like another chore that needed doing – _wife, lover, sex, sex, Han, sex._ Like what she'd said on the way to Bespin, the only time she'd really seen him furious with her – _well I've been denying you, love, and I don't want to be unfair._ Drunk and pulling her shirt up over her head like an idiot, this chore, these dirty dishes, selfish, denied – _stop being so hard on yourself, stop that right now, Leia, you quit that right this instant––_

"So. Decided to paint?"

She willed her voice to come out clear and confident, and it did. "It's silly, I suppose. Since we won't be here long."

His slow, languorous nod, dripping with _I'm-the-bigger-person-so-I-won't-say-what's-on-my-mind._ "Right…"

"But I don't know. Maybe I was going a bit stir crazy, and anyway it's quite depressing in this room. So stark – it doesn't feel right."

"Agreed." He made a big show of looking over the beginnings of the mural, like humoring her – why was she being so _hard_ on him today? "How's the kid?"

"My brother or my son?" she teased, trying to will her voice into something more amicable.

 _(And you still didn't tell me about your day, but that's okay._ It was just – well, had he heard anything interesting – were people asking about her – had he already known Luke was seeing someone?)

But oh, he did look handsome after days like this – grease and sweat and _use_ all over him, like someone who did things, who went places, who was useful. She definitely looked sweaty and used, but in the most unappealing way possible. Vulnerable, rumpled, some fetish of femininity––

"Brother, 'cause I know how the son is."

"Oh, you do?"

"Mmhmm." He pressed a kiss to her hair. " _Perfect_."

Leia flushed and rolled her eyes and tried not to think _kiss the baby then, not me, I'm not the baby, I'm Leia_ – "You've become incredibly soft in an incredibly short period of time, Solo."

"Yeah, well. Guess sitting in medical contemplatin' life as a single father does that to you," he said easily, like it was no big thing, and she stared at him – _What? What? What?_ He seemed to catch himself and looked away. "Sorry, I – that was," he grunted, "when you were out and they were – not as optimistic – sorry, shouldn't have said that."

She squinted at him and said softly, "It's okay…" Didn't know what else to say. _How not optimistic were they, exactly? Do you spend a lot of time thinking about if I died? How is that supposed to make me feel?_ _Did you really think after everything we've through something as small as this would be the one to take me out for good?_

(Although, she remembered grimly, her birth mother––)

"So – Luke?"

"He's good," she said, struggling to ease back into conversation – when had it become so _hard_ to get out of her own head, to stay in the present? Probably around when the present wasn't dense policy reports but a liminal space of diapers and nap… "He's – well, actually, did you know he's seeing someone?"

"He's _what_ now?"

"You didn't know, then," she said, smiling broadly. "Good, I didn't find out until this morning." She moved to burp the baby, these motions and murmuring automatic, muscle memory. "I was so worried I was the only one out of the loop, but––"

"Oh, hey––" he interrupted, frowning slightly, "I could––"

"Mm? Oh – don't worry about it, it's nothing. Anyway, this morning I was walking down the hall with the baby..."

"That's where you were." She couldn't make sense of his tone.

"Hm? Yes, I left a – didn't you see my note?"

"Right, yeah."

"And as we're coming up on his corridor, I see him _embracing_ someone slipping out the door as if sneaking away from a _tryst_ – oh, hey now, you know better, that's not polite..." She paused to detach some of her hair from Ben's fist, frowning at him, his bright eyes blinking and little brow furrowed – "There's nothing left to discover about it, it's the same old sticky hair, it's not exciting…"

"You're still doing those morning walks?"

"I've always done them – _'loved_ , you've got to let _go…_ " When she finally pried his fingers off, though, his face became scrunched and red and she immediately folded a strand of her hair back into his grasp, sighing, feeling like public domain.

"Right, I guess…"

"You're not even listening – you don't want to know who Luke is––?"

He was looking at the mural, then the crappy changing table, anywhere but at her. "I uh. I overheard some of you talking to Luke."

She straightened her back and without thinking held the baby just a bit closer, her hands acting as independent agents to tickle him under his chin, rub his belly, keep him entertained. Felt herself become regal and rigid. "You were eavesdropping?"

"It was more accidental overhearing."

"And you let me – we had this whole conversation without you––?"

"Wanted to see for myself how you. How you...seemed."

Ben cooed for her attention and she turned him around to face her, tapping his nose, giving him a smile, motions of play, while her voice stayed tight and angry. "Well. How do I _seem_."

"Tired. Out of it. You––"

"Sorry, I didn't think you would be thick enough to actually _answer_ that––"

" _Snippy_ ––"

"You would be snippy too if everyone thought it their _job_ to tell you you seemed hysterical and deteriorating – and do you realize how disgustingly sexist you sound? _Snippy?_ "

"Lonely, Leia? You said you felt _lonely_?" He sounded hurt, disbelieving.

"Can we not do this right now?" _Sitting on the floor of our son's bedroom, holding him in my lap?_

"What, you got somewhere to be?"

She felt her face flush with hurt. "Of _course_ I don't have anywhere to be!" she exploded, and the baby screamed – was he just startled or was he feeling that pulsing anger deep inside her too? – and she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, jumping to her feet to bounce, soothe, murmur, pace, sing, swoop. "Of course I don't – smelling like vomit – half-asleep – banned for working – _I have nowhere_ ––"

He stood up too, and she could tell he was trying painfully not to point at her. "That's not what I meant and you know it – why would I say something like that?"

"I don't want to fight," she forced out, her voice heavy with frustration.

"Dammit, Leia, if you're feeling this bad you have to _say_ something to me, you can't just––"

"Can't just what?"

"Just – _stew_ – you've got to––"

"I'm stewing?" The voice in her head screaming _how did you not notice? How could you possibly not have noticed?_

"You're – _everything_ to me, you can't just not tell me that – what, you feel so lonely? You don't feel like yourself? You feel so _bad_ all the time?"

"You won't make me feel bad for feeling bad," she said, her voice trembling as she moved to hold the baby closer, his cries softening to whimpers, "I won't have that."

"That's not what I – _Kriff_ , Leia, I feel _terrible_ – if I'd've known I––"

"Don't feel – that's not what I want – I wish you had just – instead of lobbing all of these accusations at me? Because now I am the one who feels awful and I don't want that, that isn't fair."

"'Course that's not what I – sweetheart, _please_ , what're we doing right now?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask for this conversation to happen."

"I just – do you really––?"

She held him closer still, defensive. "So what if I feel tired and worn-out sometimes? In case you haven't noticed, we have a newborn – it's par for the course."

"So – _what_?" He seemed genuinely flustered and she could still feel outrage lingering in the corner of his voice. "So maybe I could _help you_."

She looked at him steadily.

"Like you – like right now – you keep saying you feel, feel gross or whatever – so give me the baby, go take a shower, take the time to do your hair, put on real clothes – you'll feel _better_ , just a bit – can make you dinner…"

"I already made dinner."

"You – what?"

"I didn't have anything to do," she said, "so I made you dinner. It's in the fridge, you just have to heat it – attempted something from home, it wasn't too bad, I already ate."

"Is that – you do that 'cause you wanted to, or to prove a point?"

She scoffed. "If I wanted to make passive aggressive commentary about gender roles, there are much less time consuming ways to do so than cooking."

"Okay, then how about a shower."

Leia exhaled loudly. "That's very – I – appreciate that. But it's not – it's not like it hasn't occurred to me to take care of myself, Han," she began, struggling to keep her tone even, to not talk to him as if he were a child. "I'm not being a masochist – I don't get very little sleep just for _fun_. When I say I feel disgusting – I can't shower when I'm alone with him. I can't put up my hair because I sleep in little naps and it's far too much of a pain to take up and down over and over. I can't wear real clothes because they'll only get covered in urine and drool and spit-up – it's too much of a hassle to be constantly twisting in and out of a bra and in case you haven't noticed it's also too _painful_ – I'm not doing this for _fun_ , it's not – you can't just – ask me if I've _considered_ functioning like a normal adult as though that's heroic of you––"

"I'm not saying it's fucking _heroic_ , dammit!"

"Don't you think I know that even if I get in the shower I'll still feel so very much like I'm spinning out of orbit? I can tell you that with certainty because I know what it feels like to feel out of control and you can feel it in a proper nursing bra and with clean hair, and yes it's more comfortable that way but it's not any less hideous and not any less lonely."

" _Lonely_ , Leia? _Lonely?_ " he blurted out. "I want in! Let me in! Let me _help you._ What the hell _happened_ to you?"

And then she was speechless, and he was speechless, and she was shaking. Fine, then. Fine.

"Here," she said, voice deadened and flat, moving towards him. "He needs a bath. I know you think I don't think you can do it, but I _do_. He's just the only thing I have right now, that's all." And in that sentence a tiny, horrible confession: _what if I like, just a bit, to be so terribly relied on by our child? What if it feels good to feel purposeful and important to someone again, to feel capable, to feel like I can for once in my life keep someone I care about safe? What if the only way I know how to be myself is to make sacrifices for other people – how can I ever begin to unravel something like that living in my core?_ She coaxed the sleepy baby into releasing her hair, murmuring softly, "Let go, 'loved, time to spend some time with your da – you missed him, didn't you? I know, I know." Handed him over to Han, not looking at him. "I'm going to take that shower now. Since you offered."

And for not the first time, she slipped away.

XX.

Leia untangled herself from the nasty nightgown and the ratty panties with the sanitary napkin she was finally tapering off of needing and she sat on the shower floor with the water on high and found herself doing the thing she used to do, after the Death Star, when she was too frozen solid to cry – gasped and shook, took heavy breaths, rocked.

Han's angry voice, his eyes flashing: _What the hell happened to you? What the hell happened to you? What the hell happened to you?_

Hoisting her up in the trash compactor – what the hell happened to you?

Chasing her down the halls of Hoth – what the hell happened to you?

Looking at her as she whimpered _I don't want to, I can't do it_ when on the brink of that first orgasm en route to Bespin – what the hell happened to you?

Who the hell made you like this – what terrible, pathetic, fucked-up confluence of events had to happen to produce something – someone – some _thing_ like _you?_

 _You're really losing it,_ she thought as she started to scrub herself hard with soap. _You're making him think you're crazy. I don't know how you hid it for this long, but apparently he's realizing now and you've got to shut that down._

 _Let him in, fix this, fix this, let him in._ (Although she thought in response to herself – that's not _fair_ , he can't just _demand_ to be let in, that's not how this _works._ )

Although what did she know about how this worked – who did she think she was, getting married while pregnant at twenty-four– how was she she so conceited to think she could pull this off? She'd always twitched her lips and raised her eyebrows at cousins married this young, judged, thought it was unwise – did she think her experience would somehow be less rocky because she was _special_? Did she think she was cut out for this because she was _smart_?

Maladjusted – twitchy – strident – sensitive – still wracked with childish night terrors that still woke up her son… would his very first memories be of her screaming?

She rocked and gasped under the sting of the hot water and thought of all of the unopened correspondence from her people, the letter to them she couldn't craft and the shitty formal placeholder one of her assistants had sent out. She was failing them. Thought of the orphanages she had not yet visited and the blessings no one had said over Ben other than her during his first bath, quiet and getting some of the words wrong, her pronunciation deteriorating with disuse. Alderaan, Alderaan – now they were forwarding her just a few of the letters, the most encouraging ones she was sure, probably at Mon's instruction. _Princess, when I look at my own children, who have seen so much hardship, I think of your little one, who has never lived under Imperial rule, and I feel hope…_ They gave her so much and she gave them nothing.

At Mon's instruction – Mon, who was always quietly looking out for her, who was stingy with affection but still had surprised her by visiting the med center after Ben's birth, who on the morning of the Yavin medal ceremony when she was weepy had taken her aside and wordlessly used her own eyeliner and rouge on Leia's bare tearstained face: _There, now. You are so lovely, Leia._ After she'd returned with her puking, pale boyfriend and welts around her neck and awaiting a demotion for running off – _your parents would be very proud of you, Leia._ Proud of her, Mon? For abandoning the cause? _Proud of you for the depth of your commitment to those you love._ Was a witness at her wedding…

When Han had been taking Ben to his vaccinations and Leia had practically begged Mon to meet with her during, communication having been sparse after that disastrous call – Leia stumbling into putting on real clothes and makeup, scurrying to her office, desperate to figure out where she fit in––

 _Leia,_ she'd sighed. _You look so very tired._

Leia had been rigid and defensive. _I do have a newborn son._

 _I know you do. It wasn't a criticism, merely an observation. An observation that explains why I'm hesitant to put more on your plate. We both know you've never really demonstrated a firm grasp on moderation––_

 _This is punishment, isn't it?_ Leia with her anxious, emotional voice, her falling-apart voice, her I-can-feel-the-baby-crying-even-though-he's-far-away voice. _You – the council – you're all punishing me for – choosing this, for choosing Han and a baby. You want me to know I can't have both…_

 _That isn't true._ Calm, careful, never having, Leia was sure, this crushing rush of hormones flooded through her. _You know I very much admire your commitment to your husband, and that I believe in the strength of his character––_

 _Maybe not you_ personally, _but––_

 _And you know I would never suggest that a woman cannot have a family and also a career._

(At the time Leia had thought, _a career?_ Not only was it old-fashioned but it also missed the point entirely – this wasn't about _having a career_ , it was about staying true to her _life's purpose_ , if it were just a _job_ it would be easy, it––)

 _In fact, my reservations in allowing you to keep up with work from home, in addition to concerns about the chaos, come from my fear that_ you _might not understand that._

 _Might not understand what._

 _That you can maintain your commitment to the New Republic and also to your family. I worry you – might be tempted to choose. Feel like you had to choose._

 _It's not like I would – what, not change his diaper because of a briefing, I––_

 _I wanted you to know it was_ okay _to take this time for yourself – to know it was_ okay _to see to your son, that your position and your work would be waiting for you when you return. I fear I haven't made that clear._

Leia fidgeted. _I don't – I – when I... return, as you say, things won't be as they were. So much will have happened. And I want to have a voice in that – I want my people to have had a voice in that._

 _Of course, Leia,_ Mon had said gently, almost painfully gently, so much so that she'd wanted to cry, but she was always wanting to cry these days. _But you're still only a few weeks post-partum – surely you're still experiencing a fair amount of discomfort. If your mother and father were to even think the New Republic was insisting you physically suffer to ensure Alderaan's interests – well, surely it would not be the New Republic they'd imagined._

She had ignored that, flushing brilliantly – was it written all over her, did everyone know, that she was still bleeding and shuffling and aching and brilliantly overwhelmed? _I'm only a bit tired,_ she'd said defensively. _There would be nothing so dramatic as physical suffering were you to allow my office to forward me vital materials._

 _This work will always be here for you so long as you are willing to undertake it, Princess. But sometimes there are more worthy things with which to fill the hours._

The hours, the hours. Mon had seen right through her – known she was desperate for a way to full up her life with service until there was no more energy with which to tend to her own needs, her own demons, depending on your take. Known she was so terribly afraid of what fresh vulnerability she might discover on her own skin with all this aching, inevitable _time…_

With a start, she realized the water had gone cold. She wasn't eager for another 'fresher door confrontation in which he banged over and over until she finally let him in, so she turned off the water and wrapped herself up in a towel. She could feel Ben in the back of her mind, like a pleasant little headache – curious and content and maybe a little cold. Enjoying his time with his father, most likely. Time for him – for him and Han both, really – like the scenic route, a long winding road to nowhere in particular with a good view, a sort of quirky adventure unscrolling out before them. Where anything could happen and that wasn't something to be afraid of but rather something to enjoy.

She never thought like that, of course. Or maybe she did, once, but that was such a long time ago. Indeed – what the hell had happened to her?

XX.

"You turning in?" Han asked nonchalantly as Leia slipped into the bedroom with the baby in her arms.

"Yes," she murmured, kissing Ben and putting him in his crib before changing into night-clothes, then releasing her hair from the tight braids she'd placed it in after her shower.

"Hit the light?" He kept his voice aloof, pulling the covers over himself gruffly.

"Of course," she said, and the room was plunged into darkness.

It was silent and still for a long time, and then she moved from being curled up on her side of the bed to spooning him lightly, face pressed against his back. He didn't move.

"Thank you," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his waist. "For giving him a bath, earlier."

He bristled. "He's my _kid,_ you don't have to thank me for taking care of him."

"It was still helpful. And I still appreciated it."

A long, tense silence, and then he relented with, "Thanks for cooking dinner, then."

"It was edible?"

"Pretty edible, yep."

"So I'm not a totally useless housewife…"

He groaned and rolled away from her. "Leia, can you just cut it out with that shit for one second? _No one_ sees you that way."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Suddenly she felt very, very small – a girl crumpled in the shower, on the floor, in a cell. "It was a joke."

"No, don't…" He sighed heavily, then moved back to her. "Don't. I – m'sorry. For snapping."

"It's okay." She snuggled up against him and, after a moment, he put his arms around her, chin resting on the top of her head.

He stroked her hair, sighing again and trying to make himself make peace. "You uh. You never told me who Luke's mystery woman was."

Her laughter was warmth against his bare chest. "Not a woman, actually."

"Not a woman? Really?"

"Really. You were right, hotshot."

"Told you I have a knack for these things, I'm _always_ right on these things."

"You said," she whispered against his chest, and he could feel the smile coming to her face, "that you thought _I_ liked women when we met."

"Well, remains to be seen if I'm right or wrong, so…"

She wrinkled her nose with irritation and then––

"Did you just _lick_ me, Organa?"

"Quietest punishment I could think of."

"Who's it he's seeing?"

"Actually, Wedge Antilles––"

"I _knew_ it, I _knew_ he was – _again_? Seriously? Quit it."

"You shouldn't make assumptions about people!"

"You shouldn't _lick_ people, dammit."

"Really?" she breathed. Again with that hot breath, and then her mouth, lips on his skin. Kissing his chest, then a bit lower... "There was a scoundrel that taught me otherwise…"

He forced himself to stay focused, think clearly. "Leia…" he said slowly, softly. "If this is your idea of what an apology looks like, we need to talk."

"Apology…? For…?"

"Earlier, I – forget it…"

"I just – I want things to be – I want things to be normal again. Between us."

"Random blowjob's not gonna––"

She rolled away, mortified. "Why do you have to make everything sound so crass?"

"You want things to be normal, you have to talk."

" _You_ have to talk," she mumbled. " _You_ have to talk too, not just me. These things go in both directions."

He exhaled heavily and they laid there for a long time. Then:

"I wanna take him to see the Falcon."

She shifted slightly, but said nothing.

"I – it's been too long since Chewie's seen him last, and it's – s'weird that he hasn't seen – what's home."

"Okay," she whispered. "We can do that."

"And you too. Both of you," he said seriously. "Like a family."

"Do you not feel like we're a family?" That breathy voice, not mincing words, pinpointing the problem exactly and dispensing with formalities.

"I just – I feel like." He took another heavy breath, shut his eyes. "Like I don't wanna miss anything. Like everyone – like just because my past isn't – perfect doesn't mean m'gonna fuck this up. Don't wanna fuck this up. Or miss anything, like I said."

"I don't want to fuck this up either," she whispered.

"Like I want to make sure he has – everything, you know? Like – _everything_."

She nodded, facing the wall still. "You're a good father."

"Feel like it's still too early to tell, sweetheart."

"You are. You're a good father for feeling that way. It's why I'm not a good mother."

He turned onto his side to stare at her back. "What? You kidding? You're––"

"I want him to have everything but I'm too selfish to give it to him. A mother who makes him her first priority, who doesn't feel so bad – who is _joyful_ about every feeding or bath or what have you – who doesn't miss work – who doesn't feel so sad…"

"You're a fucking amazing mother, Leia." And as he said it he realized how much he meant it – seriously, wholeheartedly. "You're so, so good."

"My mother wanted me so badly," she was saying, her voice even quieter. "And I want him too, but not in the same way – she was so _eager_ to be a mother, so desperate, she sacrificed so _much_ for me, she _loved_ it, _all_ of it––"

"M'sure she was amazing," he said gently, reaching out to rub her back just a bit, "but m'also sure that when you were screaming in the middle of the night she had some – less than charitable thoughts about the whole thing."

She laughed softly. "Maybe so, but…"  
"This has been – a _huge_ fucking change, you can't beat yourself up for feeling not-great sometimes… I just wish you would've _told_ me…"

She turned, abruptly, to face him. "You really couldn't tell?"

What could he say? That yes, he could tell, but he was too busy feeling insecure and resentful and anxious about not feeling like he was being enough of a dad? Or that no, he hadn't noticed, didn't care enough to realize that she was floating through days like she was only half-there, of _course_ he noticed… "I think," he said carefully, "that I just – didn't wanna see it."

"Yes," she murmured. "I understand."

"But now that I have…"

"We'll figure something out," she said, pressing her face back to his chest, and he let his hands run down to her lower back, across all that silk of yet another white nightgown. Her new uniform – or was it a variation on that first one and its draping dress, that holo-blue vision of simultaneous strength and need?

"I wanna be here more. Do more. I can't – this shit I'm doing for the Alliance is not – not what I wanna be doing," he muttered into her hair.

"What do you want to be doing, then?"

He lurched inwardly – not a smuggler, not a glorified mechanic, not another obedient military administrator so… what, exactly? "Other than giving the baby baths, you mean?" he teased, trying to deflect.

"Yes," she whispered, "other than that."

He was silent, tense. Not fleeing a bounty on his head, not brokering supplies deals…

"We'll figure it out," she promised, and he wanted to say _no, not as important, not like us figuring out how to ensure you don't feel like crap, not the same thing –_ but wasn't that what she was always doing, deflecting from herself to focus on other people? But surely this was different...

"He was real good for the bath," he whispered into her hair, trying to change the subject. "Remember early on he was very not into hygeine and all, but seemed to be having a good time."

She was smiling, he knew it. "Did he do the thing where he throws the back of his hand––"

"Up to his face, like a little damsel in distress? Yeah. Hilarious. You teach 'im that, princess?"

"He's so funny," she breathed against him, her voice more wistful than anything else. "He's so very solemn and I always feel bad for giggling, but it's just so funny _._ That he takes himself so seriously, at four weeks old."

"Bet you were like that."

"Even when he's _sleeping_. His forehead creased – like he's working through some very complicated conundrum in his sleep."

"Hey – you wanna…" In a flash he felt incredibly stupid for saying this, but he plowed ahead anyway. "You wanna – watch him, for a little?"

Her voice was all emotion and instantly he was glad he'd said it after all. " _Yes._ "

So he sat up, and helped her sit up because even though she wouldn't admit it he knew she was still sore in so many places, and they scooted quietly to the edge of her side of the bed, him with his legs hanging over the side, her resting lightly on her knees, his arm tight around her, her head on his shoulder, and peered into the cradle.

Sure enough, after a moment the sleeping baby's forehead went from smooth to wrinkled, head turning slightly. Leia was beaming and it took him a second to realize he was beaming, too.

"Discovering something incredible, no doubt," she whispered.

"That, or it's gas."

She shoved him lightly, grinning. He noticed her eyes had started to well up – this he would never be used to, this weepy Leia – but no, that wasn't right, he would understand, he'd grow used to her. He'd learn everything about her. He'd hold her a bit tighter and kiss her hair and say _hey, I love you_. So he did.

 _Every review means the world – seriously. Also, much love to those of you that have joined me on Tumblr for prompts & such!_


	6. 5: Out There

_A note: if you've read my other work this won't come be a surprise, but I'm giving an overarching trigger warning for references (no depictions) to rape/non-con. I will try to note at the top of the chapter when these references occur, but they're sometimes small enough to slip my notice. As a head's up, there are some here. Also, the rating will be bumped up within the next three chapters._

5: Out There

Things always got away from her so quickly and more often than not her interventions were not about _stopping_ but about _slowing down_. One moment there was an Alderaan and then there wasn't, one moment she was alone in her cell on the Death Star and then she wasn't. Quick flips from diplomat to prisoner, from sitting up rigid to slamming onto her back spread wide. Single seconds made her biological father transform from a mystery to Darth Vader. Showed her rescue of Han to be a failure.

Good things took time: Leia knew this. The journey from Padme Amidala's body to her mother's arms, from baby-hair to waist-length locks, from first meeting Han to their first kiss. That very first kiss itself, how it was slow and luxurious, their mouths inching closer together as time seemed to stretch out indefinitely. Even every failed attempt at sex had been worth it for that time when everything had finally aligned so perfectly. This principle meant that Leia was extremely wary of hastily-released information and rushed announcements – she needed to control so much and the spread of information, especially about her personal life, was one of those things.

Which meant that at four-and-a-half months pregnant the only people who knew she was going to have a baby were Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Chewbacca – and, technically, a doctor she'd visited off-world under a false name for a check-up. (That appointment – how angry Han had been about the alias and the dark glasses and the scarf on her head, the way she'd say like it was no-big-thing, _You'll need an alias too if you were planning on coming along._ Of course he was planning on coming along.) She took information control very, very seriously and she might have gone longer without saying a word had the information not come out via somebody else's loud mouth.

Because really, the instant she did it – and it truly wasn't much of an it, the movement really just a very light rub of her abdomen that could have meant anything, had she been more careful about the tightness of her blouse it might have been avoided – she realized her mistake, and already she began calculating the looser clothes she could wear in compensation for the next few days. She powered through the moment like she always did, moving briskly into the analytics section of the briefing she was leading regarding an upcoming exploratory mission.

And really, how many recruits could possibly have heard the low whisper from about three rows back? Maybe the half-dozen immediately surrounding? But that was it – and half-dozen people privy to t _hink the ice princess might be knocked up_ was nothing she couldn't handle with a curt glance and firm dismissal. Not the first time people had called her cold, and not even the first time people had thought her pregnant – though yes, it was the first time they were right. Right – this time they were _right._

But her – boyfriend, lover, partner, however he was being referred to in relation to her these days – twisting around and drawling, voice low and wry, _Watch it, that's my kid you're talking about?_ That she was not quite sure how to come back from. That definitely warranted more than the withering death-glare she gave him before returning, straight-backed and haughty, to the briefing she was now determined to finish despite the flood of whispering. It definitely warranted more, but she might as well start there.

Afterwards, she strode right up to him with her arms crossed – he was still sitting, because of course he was, languid and chatty and comfortable. "Could I have a word with you, please?" Her voice razor sharp as she jerked her head and strode to a private corner out in the hall. And then sharper still, hissing, _lethal_ : " _What_ was _that_ about?"

His stance was defensive. "Princess, people were going to find out eventually – sounded like they already did."

"That doesn't mean you _confirm_ it––"

"You know, this whole – game of pretending you're not when you are s'been getting real old––"

"I wanted to tell people on my own terms and you _took_ that from me – you humiliated me."

"S'this humiliating now?" He gestured vaguely between them.

"Oh, stop that, don't be so sensitive––"

"Because signs point to yes––"

"Obviously it isn't humiliating! Obviously! Han, I'm carrying your – how could you _say_ something like that?"

He plowed again: "'Cause I understand being superstitious but at this point you're more than halfway there – why the big secret?"

"Because I want to keep my life _private_ , you know this––"

"Great but it's not just _your life_ anymore," he snapped.

She shut her eyes in frustration. "Right, I'm sorry – I forgot I'm not an _I_ anymore but a _we,_ how could I have been so selfish––"

"You can be real nasty, you know that?"

"Well excuse me! I'm only a twenty-three year old trying to keep dozens of troops out of harm's way in between my busy schedule as a _we_ ––"

"Folks _know_ you're pregnant, Your Worship, they're just being real polite – you _look_ pregnant––"

"I do not!"

"And why the hell would that be such a bad thing?"

"I can't take this – _obsession_ with my weight and what I eat – looking that way is problematic merely because it means I can't keep things _private_ – how is this so hard to––"

"And how do you think that makes me feel, huh? Folks _know_ we're a couple, they can _see_ that you're having a baby, but no one's sayin' a word? Makes me out like a – fucking – _lowlife_ who doesn't care about you and––"

"Because everyone needs to see at all times that I'm yours––"

"Because everyone can see m'not good enough for you and they never let you or me forget it for a goddamn _second!_ And it feels like _shit––"_

 _..Shit._ Leia grimaced and leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the glob of mascara she'd blinked onto her eyelid. How long had it been since she'd fully completed this ritual? Since before the baby was born? Long enough that she'd forgotten to wipe the excess off of the wand before bringing it to her lashes, apparently. Sighing, she wet a piece of tissue and started again.

She thought of the first time she wore eyeliner or a cupped bra – how her reflection had looked outlandish, cartoonish. The cupped bra in particular – her mother was insistent that this is what "real bras" looked like but Leia, thirteen and looking at the way it padded her barely-there curves and changed the way her dress fell, was mortified. _Everyone will be able to tell I'm wearing it! I look different from how I did without it!_ Like that first day in white, the awkward walk of knowing everyone knew she'd started her cycle; like looking at herself in lipstick for the first time and being sure she saw a clown looking back; like standing in the mirror naked and staring at the ways her body began to contort into a mother's: purple lines, white lines, bulges, breasts. Unnatural made natural over time, things she got used to. So maybe she looked silly in makeup right now but that was only because it had been a while, soon she'd be back to wearing it every day and the Leia Organa in the mirror would be her again and would not make a mistake as silly as too much mascara on her wand.

After fixing her makeup, she added another pin to her hair to secure a stray lock and felt almost embarrassed at what a pleasure it was, to put every piece in place. Her hair, too, was meticulously done today, not too severe but _worlds_ better than the loose bedraggled mess it'd been for weeks, close to the girlish style she'd arrived at Cloud City in. Feminine but under control, like a princess or a very diligent young mother.

Appearances were important to her. They gave her security. The taupe trousers and white blouse she was wearing, the uncomfortable bra she was bearing, the shoes instead of slippers – armor. Today she was going to make her private life public and she was damn well going to orchestrate her appearance to at _least_ hide the fact that she'd slept maybe three hours the night before. She was taking the baby to the Falcon with Han and she was going to walk through the base with the stroller looking professional and serious and she was going to do a little bit of work while Han worked on the ship and look normal and, by looking normal and being seen as normal, she was going to _feel_ normal.

This, she admittedly knew, was not exactly why Han wanted her to make this trek into the outside world – had a lot more to do with his idea of family and possibly getting her out of the house in the meantime than her creating the public appearance of post-partum bliss. But if she could accomplish both at once, all the better.

(And too, she thought as she drifted back to the kitchenette to finish packing up her bag, if she could convince Han that she had it under control more, that she was doing better, maybe things would feel better between them? Regardless of whether or not she was?)

He was pulling on his boots with one hand, pushing the baby back and forth in the stroller with the other, and he smiled genuinely at her – "You look great."

"I feel like I'm wearing a costume," she said lightly.

"It's a good one, then."

"Well, I try."

"Thanks," he said, smiling broadly at her again, "for coming with me today."

"Not like I have anywhere else to be," she quipped, but she smiled too before waving a datapad. "I'm bringing this, okay?"

He nodded in that slow, what're-you-up-to way. "Okay, sure."

She went to put it in the bag, then frowned and pulled out the topmost item. "Han," she said flatly, holding up the pump and giving him a peeved look.

He met her gaze and merely raised his eyebrows. "You," he said, pointing at her, "are getting some sleep tonight."

She twitched her lips and placed it back in the bag, thinking _If only Ben was the only thing keeping me awake._ Indeed, last night had been particularly ugly on the nightmare front – but then maybe there was something sweet about him saying he knew she had other things on her mind than just nightmares, downplaying them. Or maybe he knew tonight she'd have to sleep double in compensation?

Ugly was the right word to him too even though it sounded like the wrong one. Had been the sort of night terror he hated most of all – not only the rare kind that ended in her rushing to the bathroom to vomit, but also the kind in which he could figure out the content pretty quickly. Leia crying out in the bed next to him: _No, I hate it – I hate it!_ Also the kind in which rather than her waking up at a screaming peak, dream-Leia seemed to give up, resign herself, just whimper. Left him feeling like he was always too late by the time he shook her awake, at which point she was stony and solemn and still. Going "somewhere else," as she called it, and then rushing off to be sick while he tried to soothe the baby back to sleep. That righteous screaming slamming around the inside of his head – _I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!_ Too easy to fill in the details. Thoughts racing ahead of him before he could stop them – would Ben ever be able to fill them in? The kind of thing that made him gag to think of.

Took him a second to realize Leia had swept over to the couch and taken the stroller from him, had started talking to the baby – "And you're going to be excellently behaved, aren't you? And afterwards we'll have to give you another bath, because you'll certainly be very filthy after spending time on such an _ancient, decrepit_ ship. But I think you're starting to like baths now, from what I can tell. Now that you've discovered how to splash your mam?"

The same voice that called out in sleep for mercy and chilled him to his bones, that sent him crashing into her room with a blaster drawn on their first overnight mission together. Hair swept back, dressed all nice, talking to the baby nice and easy. Heading for the door and indicating that he should grab Ben's first favorite toy, the little stuffed thing from Luke somewhere between a Wookiee and an ewok, all while maintaining the bright, clever chatter, all while on three hours of sleep, all while looking like a vision of youth and hope and optimism. Leia who confessed she was lonely, empty, isolated, sad – shit, you could blink and miss a thing like that. Right?

XX.

It took her a second to remember how to roll back her shoulders and walk tall, but after that second passed she began to feel her pulse calm, her grip on the stroller relax. One perfect gift Ben was giving her: she could always look at him to avoid eye contact with others. If people stopped and looked at her they usually gave that up pretty quickly after she didn't look back at them and kept walking. And bless Han, really, for his light grip around her shoulders and the way he was steering her ahead and his disinterest in conversation and the fact that people didn't expect polite chatter from him so she could wear his brusqueness like a cloak, or an excuse. _So sorry I can't stop to chat and let you put your hands all over my child and struggle through blithe smalltalk on three hours of sleep, my roguish husband likes to move quickly! You know how men can be._

Still, though – as they moved from their unit to the hangar, she could feel every set of eyes on them, caught glimpses as Han gave quick nods and she gave brief smiles, taking in the spectacle of a married couple and a baby on a military base. Cloistered away for five weeks, she had almost forgotten they were _famous_ , that people _looked_ at her and expected things from her and felt a bit ownership over her. And too – that in a not-quite-real-world of this remote base there were only individuals dedicated to a cause. As they passed young, fit recruit after young, fit recruit she felt her choices thrown in sharper relief than she thought possible. Something like how she felt when medical shipped in a sonogram machine for her, how she had to bring diapers and a baby blanket and a bitty hat in the bag she brought to give birth. This far-off world not built with young women as leaders in mind – constructed for every disaster and threat other than dear princesses needing ramps down which to push strollers.

"They could at least be subtle about it," Han was muttering, ushering her forward more quickly.

"They're curious, I've been gone for awhile," she murmured in response, reaching out to stroke Ben's soft little chin until he cooed. "And they're with us, they're serving the Alliance––"

"Doesn't mean they get to gawk."

"People like babies, Han..."

"He's _our_ baby. Not theirs."

"I _know_ ," she said, a little peeved, a little louder. "That's why I don't allow any photographs – it's why I only go for walks very early in the morning. I'm _very_ particular about this issue, you should know that."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

His grip around her shoulders tightened as they strode past rows of ships towards the Falcon, the stroller and her heeled boots clattering on the ground. Leia tracked the people they passed subtly, out of the corner of her eye, trying to seem calm and put-together and engrossed in the baby. "Wait!" she whispered, stopping short. "I want to greet Wedge."

"You want to – Antilles?"

"Because of Luke," she hissed emphatically, guilt still surging through her at everything she didn't notice – she would revisit that guilt again and again, sister falling somewhere shortly after wife and lover on her list of inadequacies, and she strode over to where the Corellian was at work. "Hello there," she called, waving lightly.

"Hey, Your Highness!" Wedge Antilles, climbing down from some absurd position on an X-Wing, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching out for – something like a handshake, something like a hug?

In a rare, guilty display of physical affection towards anyone other than Han and Luke, she hugged him. He seemed – a bit surprised, but did his best to hug her best while being careful of the grease on his hands and her white shirt. She, for her part, felt a surge of purpose – make this man feel comfortable, make her family seem appealing, like something worth joining, she could do that, couldn't she? "How are you? It's been––" _So long since I haven't seen you kissing my brother?_ " _Well_. I feel like I haven't been out in ages."

"Yeah, you're like the lovely ghost of the base, eh? This the little guy?"

"Oh – yes, here––" She reached down and scooped Ben up, trying to hold him on her hip in a way that seemed charming, familial, endearing. She kissed the top of the baby's head affectionately and flashed a smile. "Yes, this is our son." _Our son._ It still made her heart race just a bit to say it.

"Aw, he's _real_ cute – got big fast, hm?"

"You know, it doesn't feel quite so fast when you're up to your elbows in baby things for hours at end. Council meetings on Hoth never felt as tedious."

"At least least you're not frozen solid these days."

"Ah, but diapers only smell a _teensy_ bit better than tauntaun dung."

Wedge snorted. "Least baby shit's smaller," he said, and Leia covered her mouth with a hand and gasped and grinned on cue.

Han came up behind her and she could feel the skepticism – not at Wedge but at her posturing, he could always see through this sort of thing – rolling off of him. "Antilles."

"Solo, hey – helluva cute kid you've got there."

"I think so." He threw his arm around her shoulders casually. "Takes after her side of the family – they're an attractive bunch, don't you think?"

"Ah," Wedge said, flustered, rubbing his neck. "So Luke..."

"Only because I – saw you two in the morning," Leia blurted out, shushing the baby who, apparently feeding on her anxiety, had started to whimper. "I mean, he isn't the type to betray trust, is what I mean. That is, he doesn't blab – he takes discretion very – as do I, of course, and––"

Wedge was still rubbing his neck, though – "No, I – uh, I think he'd been trying to – planning on telling you for a bit, so…" He gave her an apologetic-yikes sort of half smile, and she tried to keep her features from collapsing. _Trying to, planning on… and you were too self-absorbed to––_

"Well," Leia said, pasting her smile back on and shifting her grasp on Ben as he began to fuss in earnest. "Either way, glad to be in the loop – we'll have to – sometime, the four of us, or––"

"Sweetheart," Han muttered, nudging her and flicking his gaze to the baby pointedly.

"Yeah, 'course," Wedge said generously, "but go on, tend to your kid. Good running into you guys, glad I got to meet him." He paused for just a beat before continuing, "Glad to see you out and about, Princess."

 _Glad to see you out and about? Glad to see you out––?_ "Yes, I – _shh,_ 'loved, come on now, sh-sh-sh…" She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips to the top of the baby's head as she bounced, mortified as Ben's cries drew other curious eyes. Eyes, always, on her, always. _Glad to see you out and about_ – why the pause, what was he trying to say – she told Han everything, did Luke tell Wedge Antilles everything – did he tell him that she'd confessed feeling painfully low and lonely – did he know about Vader – did he know about everything that had happened to her? It didn't make her feel unhappy so much as desperately uncomfortable, exposed, embarrassed – the thought of there suddenly being another person who could look at her and see right through her composed posture and demure smile, who knew saw all _that_ all _over_ her... looked at her with special private knowledge of her body, what she looked like crying, what she screamed about in sleep… there was a reason, then, that she and Han kept to themselves… "Yes – I'm glad too."

XX.

Leia stepped back out of this second embrace with her friend and sighed. "Is it written all over my face, then?" she asked, moving to make herself a cup of kaffe.

 _[What?]_

"That I'm the sort of person who needs extra hugs and whatnot these days."

 _[Or maybe I just missed ya.]_

"Has Han told you that I've been…"

 _[That you've been…?]_

She frowned, but inside felt relief – either Han hadn't told Chewie about this dense spell of sadness, or (more likely) had honed in on the utmost importance of pretending not to know about it. Preserving her dignity, a bit. "Nothing, never mind. I'm sorry it's been so long, I've been so – preoccupied, with the baby."

 _[Grew some since the last time I saw him.]_

"I really am sorry." She sighed, sitting down with her mug. She could hear Han's voice wafting through the ship, enthusing to the baby throughout the newborn's little tour and gave a bit of a smile. "He really wanted us to come out here."

 _[Only home he knows.]_

"I feel similarly. I mean, I wish I could show the baby mine, but…"

 _[You look tired, princess.]_

"Gee," she said, sighing heavily. "Thanks."

 _[It's understandable, you have a newborn. But – you look more tired than your husband.]_

Leia said nothing, sipped her kaffe.

 _[He likes to help – to fix things. If you let him.]_

"I don't really need another person reminding me to _let Han help_ ," she muttered, peeved. "I'm not hogging a _toy_ , I'm _home_ _with the baby._ "

 _[That's all I'm gonna say, forget I said anything.]_

"Right. Right." She took a deep, long breath. "I'm sorry, I really am sorry – I'm sorry we haven't – I haven't – Ben and I haven't. I don't want you to think that your friendship doesn't – it's just very hard, to find the energy to get all the way down here… I guess it's not exactly the same as always, is it?"

 _[Not quite, no….]_

"I suppose that was a bit naive, to think it would be? To think that we could just – add a baby to the whole equation and everything would be mostly the same? But it's like the whole dynamic now is just so… I don't know."

 _[It is different. But that may not be a bad thing.]_

"It does sort of – expose how shoddy some of the – my mind is such a mess, ugh – I'm on three hours of sleep…"

 _[See! How can you get offended when someone says you look tired?]_

"Because women aren't supposed to look anything but _lovely,_ " she said snidely, rolling her eyes. "What I mean was – everything's shifted and it sort of – shows how fragile some things we thought were so solid really were. If that makes sense?"

 _[Ah, yes. Putting stress on a beam that had never had any weight on it. Looked sturdy before, but that was because it wasn't having to bear anything.]_

"I don't mean our – marriage, relationship, what have you," she said hastily, flushing. "I just mean – the fact that I don't actually think, ah…" She lowered her voice a tad: "I don't actually think Han knows what he wants to _do_ , now that the war is winding down? It's not like he's going to go back to smuggling..."

 _[Something I understand very much, yes.]_

"In what way?"

 _[Ah, just – you, this, the new cub….]_ He gestured vaguely. _[It is less clear where a Life Debt fits into all that.]_

"How do you mean…?"

 _[Just that he is starting a new life, a different life, with you and your child. A life that does not need so much protection. But also a life I cannot imagine not being part of – it's something I've been considering, recently. And I imagine he's thinking along those lines about himself.]_

"About him––"

 _[Princess, he has been outrunning different enemies for as long as we have known each other – Imperials, bounty hunters, Hutts, then the villains trying to bring down the Alliance. It's hard to know where to fly next when suddenly you have a lot more options that just Away, Fast As Possible.]_

She frowned deeply. "I suppose, but I never––"

 _[And I think after this war? Many beings will find themselves in similar positions. You and other elites were more – running towards a New Republic, if you will. Most were trying to merely run away from the Empire. Having spent so much time fleeing, they don't know where to go when not being chased.]_

She had opened her mouth to reply, something about _But I hardly know where to go either, and the only reason I have a semblance of an idea was very much an accident,_ when suddenly Han was with them, holding the baby close. "And then the galley, with your mama and your Uncle Chewie…" He looked between them, frowning. "You guys alright?"

"Fine," Leia said, "just sleepy." She put on a smile, thoughts still racing. "How's your tour going?"

"Goo-ood," he sing-songed, back in that light, high voice he used with the baby, grinning at him and tickling his stomach, "we're just pausing because we both got a little hungry…"

She gave him a look. "Is that a cue, or…?"

"Listen, taking care of a ship takes hard work," he said to the baby, grinning and content. He handed Leia Ben before rifling around for something to eat, his good mood evident in everything from the way he moved to the way he assembled a sandwich.

 _[I'll give you some privacy,]_ Chewie said, but before he left the room he gave Leia a look as if to underline their conversation.

"I ruin every party," Leia sighed. "I start to unbutton my shirt and everyone flees…"

"Nah, Chewie just knows you're intense about being modest an' private," Han said lightly. He placed a sandwich in front of her before sitting across from her with his own.

"Intense?"

"From – y'know, missions and stuff, the way you are about the 'fresher." He shifted awkwardly. "And with nights – actually a light sleeper, believe it or not, so…"

She felt her features begin to fill with shame, thought of her violent nightmares the night before, how she'd had those same ones on the ship so many times, was always anxious about Luke finding out what had happened and she never even considered––

"Hey, Leia, don't – it's no big thing, I never said anything about anything, he just––"

"Put it together?"

"I don't think he really has thought about it that much––"

"What is it I say?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "That makes it so – can it possibly be that obvious?"

He looked more uncomfortable still. "Uh. Not much that's coherent."

"Han… I won't be mad, I just want to know what I say."

"You said _I hate it,_ " he said, not looking at her, his voice flattening a bit. "You do a lot of don't-touch-me, a lot of please. And then just – I hate it, I hate it."

She felt her face burning – _you like it, don't you? You fucking love it––_

"Sweetheart, can we – I promise no one's––"

"Right, yes," she said, and she forced herself to snap out of it and she put on a smile. "You know," she said after a moment, "you're very funny, with him."

"How'm I funny, sweetheart?" he said slowly, appearing to play along.

"You're just _so_ easily amused by the baby."

"Just glad you're here. Nice to see you like this."

"Like what?"

"Dunno – here, with him. And me. Just like to see all of us together someplace that's home."

 _His home,_ a voice in her head murmured, but she mostly ignored it. "Now if only we could get a crib out here. Maybe we'd get fewer noise complaints."

"Psh, that's easy. But dunno if Your Highness will be able to sleep in a bunk after months in big, cushy bed."

"It's true, I've gotten used to sleeping without all of your heat wrapped tight around me to fit."

"You ever miss it?"

"Maybe a bit." She gave him a little grin as if to say _please? See? Everything is fine, it's all fine._ "Though it got a little too roomy there towards the end, with the belly and all."

"Aw, but that was the best part," he said, and she flushed. He grinned – "Love that I can still make you do that."

"What?"

"Blush like that. I _love_ it."

"Still?" she said, flushing further despite herself. "You talk like we've been together for ages. Do it successfully after ten years of marriage and then I'll be impressed."

"You will be."

"Good to know."

"Hey, you uh – you get any work done? I know you wanted to…" He glanced over at the datapad beside her. "Anything interesting?"

She shifted the baby and frowned. "Oh, no, I––" _Was actually just talking about you instead of working, was talking about whether or not I should ever worry about you, was talking about what's next for you, what comes next––_ "No, nothing of note."

"What's this on the screen?" He was frowning and held out the datapad to her.

"Oh, nothing. It's for this silly little media blitz the communications team is organizing, for the elections." _What comes next for you, Han? This is what comes next for me – do you resent that?_

"Media blitz...?"

"The thing about democracy is you can't just _give_ it to people, they have to take it and utilize it, so if there isn't turn out for these first senatorial elections it's going to be both useless and also an embarrassment – evidence for Imps, the people don't care, those voted into office are illegitimate-"

"Sure, sure––"

"So they're doing a marketing campaign in some of the more densely populated regions and one of them features a holo of me, I suppose because they can trot me out to remind people of the Empire's evils..."

"C'I see it?"

"If you really want, it's nothing of note." She burped the baby and held him close – suddenly, the emotion he reached out to her with was blue and cold and shadowy – lonely and scared. Was that from her? Or from Han, or…? She pressed him close to her chest with both arms, like some secret, tiny thing, like she was trying to keep her heart from spilling outside of her body. Rotated at the waist back and forth. His thoughts flushed to a soft green of breathing easy.

Han kept frowning at the datapad. "This is... a lot," he said slowly. _What comes next, now that you aren't fleeing?_

"Mm. I know, somebody should've stopped me from wearing white on white so soon after having a baby." _That you aren't running away? Do I know what's next? This is what's next for me..._

"What? No – what?" He shook his head firmly. "No – just. You – it's really – uh, _intense_."

She glanced at the image again over the baby's head, considered it. Intense wasn't incorrect. The image was mostly empty – Leia herself was placed just to the edge of the frame. She was wearing those slender trousers she favored, her white pair, and the high-collared white blouse with all the tiny black buttons tight up her spine, and her shining black boots. Her hair was braided over her head in the practical, sturdy style she'd made use of mostly on Hoth.

And she was slightly turned from the viewer, her posture defensive and edgy, strapped to her visible hip was a very sizable blaster, and the swaddled baby was cupped tightly – protectively – to her chest. The only movement in the holo was the flickering of her gaze – to Ben's face, then out to the viewer, then back. No smile. Furthest thing from one. Below, in bold, black text: SECURITY.

"It's silly," Leia said again, but looking at it she felt a rush of pride – a single day she'd spent doing something relevant, being relevant, being briefed on a plan. "They've got all these people roped into it – there's one of little Poe, his back, running and playing or something? And it just says _Freedom._ It's supposed to be minimalist, articulating new freedoms while also demonstrating their ephemerality––"

"You look––"

"I know."

"It's kinda – sexy." He sounded more unnerved than anything. _And just like the regular ol' untouchable virgin princess they've always made you out as._

"Yeah, _right,_ " she snorted.

"It's – you look real... powerful, s'what I mean." _You look defensive,_ he thought to himself. _You look like you did on Hoth – like you're sizing up the threat of everyone around you. You look like it's you against the world, you and him all alone._ "When'd ya do these?"

"You mean in between nursing and changing your child? I found some time," she teased.

"Guess I would've ruined the shot?" Kriff, he sounded way too needy. But also – who did the New Republic think it _was_ , propping her up in these photos with his kid as though he didn't even exist, as though she was always _scared_... making her look like this guarded, edgy person he knew she wasn't any more…

"Oh, hush. You'd have been distracting, it's not a fashioncampaign, we don't want people stopping to contemplate your _ass_ , we want them to vote."

"You look – _different,_ " he concluded, barely hearing her. "Sorry I – it's just really, uh, surreal."

"I look matronly," she said, wrinkling her nose, "and slovenly."

"You look like you're back on Hoth."

"Give or take a few pounds––"

"Cut that out," he snapped.

Leia made a show of closing her mouth obediently and raised her eyebrows high, articulating her displeasure in just a look. _If that's how you're going to talk to me._

'"What I mean is you look – y'look – y'look like you're ready for someone to jump out an' _attack_ you guys. You an' him. Like you've been up all night, waitin'."

She gave a weak laugh. "I am up all night, hotshot."

"Sorry, sweetheart, I dunno what – sorry." He shook his head. "It's a good shot, sexy as hell, like I said. I'd vote." _Sexy in the old Leia way, not the new Leia way – sexy like I wanna take you up against a wall and make you lower your guard. Not sexy like home._

"Oh, please. I'm holding the _baby_ , Han."

"S'my baby," he retorted, kissing her.

She gave him a skeptical half-smile and fixed her gaze back down at Ben, who was dozing lightly against her. Meanwhile, he looked at the holo again, his face expressionless. If he were in it, he would stride up next to them and wrap his arms around her and she would smile and laugh and roll her eyes and flush. Ease up, feel comfortable. Like a family.

He put his arms around her suddenly, then, tight, pressing his face to her neck and inhaling.

"Han––?"

He was rocking her back and forth a bit and it almost felt right again, the way it had moments before.

"You're gonna wake the––"

"No m'not. Leia, just – shh, alright? Just––..." He shook his head and just held her there, at the kitchen table, him pressed tight against her with his eyes shut, her holding the baby close as she dared. His feelings bright yellow, warm, home, precious. Han was murmuring something as he rocked the three of them, maybe it was just _shh,_ she couldn't tell. The baby's eyes were shut too, like his father's. She knew this because hers were open.

 _Bit of a transition chapter as we move forward. Thank you for being the best reviewers; those of you who comments are all so lovely!_


	7. 6: Duty

_Head's up: discussion of sexual violence._ _I've upped the rating to M, as this chapter felt rather graphic and there will be a sex scene soon._

6: Duty

 _Good morning, Princess!_

 _I hope you're having a lovely start to your day! A few items that could use your attention today and some scheduling to put on your radar. Again, only if you find the time! It's been lovely to have you working from home but everyone here agrees there's no need to exert yourself. Please give us a call if you have any questions at all!_

 _1._ _Remembrance._ _This is the big one. The relief office is looking to coordinate another in-person meeting between you and other prominent diasporic officials to touch base about messaging given the political shifts since last year. As a reminder, we're now about a month and a half out. This may seem very soon but I promise things are very much underway!_

 _I also put in a generalized inquiry about accommodations for you related to B but you and I should discuss exactly what you think might be useful to you. Please remember that nothing is too big or too small, especially for this event. They'll also be doing babynamings during the service for a few children born this year – will you want B included? There was some speculation that you might be doing something Corellian…?_

 _2\. The Commission on the Status of Females in the Galaxy is holding a panel discussion on sexual violence in about two months, after the new administration comes in, and they're very much interested in having you speak on it. I've forwarded along their invitation – it looks like a very exciting opportunity!_

 _3\. Planning is also underway for the festivities for the first anniversary of the second Death Star victory – we're two and a half months there. I've demurred on your involvement here because I know you're especially wary of being shunted onto anything that smells of "party planning." Let me know if you feel otherwise Just didn't want you to feel as though you were being deliberately kept out of the loop._

 _4\. Attachments – a few holos forwarded our way of children in the temp. settlement's orphanage with the items for B you shipped; the data you asked me to pull on diasporic infant mortality rates and as well as rates of maternal death; calendar of upcoming election events just so you can have them in the back of your head – obviously your attendance isn't expected but I know you like to be kept up to date with these things; misc. civilian correspondence; thank you note from S.B. and K.D. for the gift you sent to their baby._

 _5\. And then just a reminder that you have a check-up on your calendar for this afternoon at noon!_

 _Thank you, again and as always, for everything––_

 _K & co._

A bite of fruit, a sip of kaffe, a small smile at the fact that her assistant Kirin was up so early – the message was stamped, what, 0500? Really? – to ensure that she could read the briefing on her datapad over her small breakfast. Or maybe she had written this up the night before and set it to send out at a specific time? Something so diligent and obsessive – something she herself would've done as a junior senator. Back then her assistant had been older than her, well-educated, and very serious about politics; the war effort had put all of those types into the military and kept them there. Technically a diplomat post-Endor, Leia now had an assistant who was a bright-eyed displaced Alderaanian teenager with no combat skills and no political education but possessing a genuine eagerness to serve that she appreciated. Or, not a teenager anymore – hadn't her twentieth birthday passed? Did she remember to bring her a gift? Surely she would appreciate some small, pretty thing – Leia had once seen the appeal in those. Or – her birthday had been right after Ben was born, wasn't it, oh…

A small, sad smile – that the galaxy would always have dedicated young women to run it, young women who knew to demur on party-planning jobs and who pre-drafted messages so their superiors could read briefings over breakfast, who learned to adopt the voice of the educated even when they came from very little, who sought out role models and supported them and so too were supported. Like the relationship she'd had Mon… was she really so old now, that she needed to provide that for another woman? If she did, she would tell Kirin what Mon had only implied in arch terms but should have explicitly stated, should have put at the top of every memo: _birth control, birth control, birth control._

If she didn't have a child, would Kirin be a friend rather than someone to whom she felt a sort of maternal affection – a rare woman her own age in her life, a rare someone to whom she could talk about all the girlish things she kept close to herself? A peer. Kirin did not see her as a peer. Kirin had come on board and the first thing Leia had said to her was _hold this, please_ – and handed her her case so she could vomit into a trashcan.

 _Oh! I – can I get you something, princess?_

 _Yes, you can get me myself from two months ago on comm, and you can tell her all about the benefits of prophylactics._

Not a peer. She had very few peers. She had very few friends. She had very few things, except––

"Hi, 'loved – good morning. Did you sleep well? Yes, you did, you gave me only a teeny bit of trouble, yes, I know, you knew your mam's been working _very_ hard and fell right back asleep because you're a very considerate little boy, and you're going to be considerate still and let your mama do a bit more work before she gets you dressed…" She tickled his tummy and he squirmed and cooed, looking right at her as he blinked into waking, almost smiling, his feelings like relief and contentment, like she was the most important thing in his world, like she was a comfort, was she the most important thing in his world? Was that enough?

She sorted through the attachments and added items to her calendar deftly, one hand rocking the carrier, her attention hovering for a second over Han's birthday next week – that one she really could not forget, and she had to sort out a gift, too… He had been gone when she woke up, some early morning briefing, she'd been surprised but not disapointed, was glad he appeared to be doing something that interested him as he considered his next steps – _dunno, apparently they want me back as a general or some shit_ (he'd resigned the post after being assigned a transfer away from the base some half year ago), _but they've got another thing coming if they think I'll let them station me anywhere you aren't –_ when she'd said, low and soft, _or I could follow you,_ he'd told her not to say things she didn't mean, and that because she actually _cared_ about her work it should come before his. And yet here she was, at their kitchen table…

Don't say things you don't mean. She would follow him anywhere, she'd said it the day of their wedding – _and I promise to follow you wherever fate takes us, to the farthest edges of the galaxy._ So used to speaking in plural by then – maybe she'd said _I promise we will follow you…_

That day, so hot and humid she'd been almost delirious, had to sit down right after the ceremony was over, laughing as he helped her to sit under a tree and wiped her brow with the cuff of his nice white shirt. Her legs splayed out in front of her a little absurdly, the cool grass a scratchy relief… that pink silk dress, how it clung to her and grew damp – she remembered looking at the pop of her bellybutton with lidded eyes, wondering at it, the new ring slippery on her slick finger, woozy but content… Resting her head on his shoulder when he sat beside her, slipping his hand over her abdomen, genuinely at ease. _Hello, husband._ Why was it all so much easier then…?

(Though that wasn't quite right. When she'd returned to base Kirin had peppered her with questions about Alderaanian customs – _who held the canopy, who did you give your pins to?_ – and she'd had to confess that most hadn't been used – _I didn't want to use a canopy that wasn't my family's, I didn't have any unmarried women other than Mon attend, Han doesn't really understand these things anyway and oh by the way it all hurt too much, to try to have things too close to home –_ she'd felt – not deflated, but not on air, either, remembering very much that she'd married at six months pregnant, with five witnesses, and mostly as a formality – married without a single member of her family present – though her good mood had returned a bit when Kirin revealed excitedly that she'd gotten Leia's hideously stiff office chair replaced with one more comfortable one as a wedding present, given that she was so uncomfortable these days, but still...)

She looked over Kirin's message again, reading it more closely this time and letting the day's new waves of anxiety wash over her. A shiver of unease at ensuring accommodations at Remembrance (she would _never_ nurse in a 'fresher stall ever again, not ever, the humiliation coupled with the claustrophobia too much to handle, especially not on that day, not on that day), a flicker of envy at election news, a touch of guilty anxiety at replying to refugee correspondence – how she felt like a fraud, just a bit, having the right words of comfort for everyone but herself.

When little girls wrote she tried to record herself rather than write, especially if they'd lost parents (to suicide, mostly, though occasionally in battle or as a result of the child being off-world at boarding school when their parents perished in the Disaster), because she had once been a little girl so captivated by every woman whose holo she saw, each one a mirror – Mon, a mirror, her mother, a mirror, that long-gone Queen of Naboo, righteous and fearless and _young_ , a mirror, forbidden images of that one-time woman Jedi – Ahsoka something? – a mirror too, all the ways a woman might be powerful ways for a smaller Leia to see herself. Swallowing up every visage of a woman in charge more eagerly than sweets, each one bringing with her a whisper of _you could do that someday, that could be you._

Short, small vids – "Hi there, Rowena – your letter and your concerns have stayed with me, and I am so glad you wrote to me. To do so was very brave, and you must always remember to reach out and speak up when you are concerned with the fate of those you care about. You asked me about my favorite color – it is, without a doubt, green..." She'd done a few, since Ben was born, maybe two or three. Felt so strange, now – to encourage these girls to prioritize their education, to promise them that there was a way out of dire circumstances beyond a lucrative off-world marriage, to insist in the opportunities open to young women beyond motherhood, when surely they knew all about Princess Leia's baby. As they wrote her, the youngest – _Dear Princess Leia, I bet you are the bestest mama, I miss my mama, she was a very sad mama though, could you be my mama now?_ (Giving birth to this child with fraught blood… _could you be my mama?_ So many in need, in need of her…)

"Princess Leia's baby." Why was there no balance – either there were shocking and downright depressing assumptions that she would not give her child an Alderaanian name because of her husband's imagined differing practices or there was the perpetration of the idea that this baby was hers and hers only, a step up from a virgin birth, sired by the spirit of the Rebellion and the dawning of a new age rather than a man. Princess Leia's baby – the princess's child – she knew how he was referred to, in press and also internally. Had she encouraged it? Was it seeping into her own understand – her baby, he was her child – the princess's child – the baby who would be kissed by her people, who was almost her whole entire family, who her mother and father held close and kissed and fussed over in her best dreams…

The baby who she was so afraid of belonging to other people, she had one wish for him and that was for him never to be public property, how much of her was public property?

How much of her was public property. _The Commission on the Status of Females in the Galaxy is holding a panel discussion on sexual violence…_ she shivered, and the baby shivered too, like a mirror. _They're very much interested in having you speak on it…_ Did they know? How did they know, who had told them, was there some kind of galactic speculation or––

(She knew, of course, in the rational part of her mind, that she had been a rather outspoken voice against sexual violence before the Death Star, and was known to be passionate about ending violence against women, but still, still…)

(Still: when they planned the panel, when they sent invitations, did some high-up scroll past her name and think _ah yes, Princess Leia, I can imagine she'd have a lot of say on the subject_ with raised eyebrows? Did an office full of interns and assistants close their eyes to blink and in that blink imagine her head slamming again and again against that cold, hard floor, as if keeping time – imagine her dead-eyed expression, how she'd kept her mouth in a firm line and said not a word once it was clear that words would do nothing – were they imagining it now – was it something about her, did she look like someone who someone, someones, would hate so badly to make her feel subhuman, did she look very fuckable, was it true that she looked very fuckable, like she was made for this – a hot little body – you love it, don't you? – _made for this––_ )

With a start she realized Ben was crying – screaming, actually, in earnest – and she snapped out of it and pulled him close and he hushed just as quickly as he'd started. _Did I do that?_ Yes, she did that, didn't she? But had someone really told – was it medical – was it _Mon_ – _Han_ – she tried to settle her thoughts. Breathed deep.

As she drifted elsewhere she found her thoughts settling on a conversation she'd had with Luke not too long ago. "Something really neat happened to me while I was there, though," he'd said.

"Mm?" she'd asked absentmindedly, trying to keep her eye on the baby, who seemed determined to tie her loose hair into actual knots. "And what's that?"

"I was speaking with a group of villagers? Back home? And there was a little kid who also had a prosthetic hand – not as high-tech, but still pretty decent – and when I shook mine with his his eyes got all huge. And he said, 'I didn't know a Jedi was like me, too.' Pretty sweet, huh?"

Leia had frowned. "I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"It's sad, isn't it? That a child lost a limb – that another person suffered in that way."

"That's a pretty pessimistic take, don't you think?"

Leia'd shrugged. "Empathy and identification necessitate that more than one person suffer."

"I sort of think that's a given, though."

"I refuse to live in a world in which it's a given that some children must lose their limbs," she'd said tightly.

"You don't feel – something? When you meet – other women, who've––"

"All I feel when I meet those women," she'd said, her voice sharp and curt, "is despondence. That such acts are committed in such––" She'd untangled Ben's fingers again, but he cried, so she'd let him have it after all. Said between her teeth, " _Stunning_ multitudes."

And sometimes she felt like a great, leaking arc, with as many people as can fit clinging onto her for salvation, only to all end up drowned by her inadequacy. She thought often about her detention block on the Death Star – why no one ever talked about what if all the other cells were full. Why hadn't her saviors-turned-family considered unlocking them all, unleashing a horde of tortured innocents in order to create a great commotion? How many could they have fit, on the Falcon? How many could they have saved?

In her first few hours on the Death Star she planned a prisoner's revolt. When they marched her to her cell her eyes roamed the block and she thought, _look, look, they must be filled with other people. You will never come to harm so long as you have other people._

And she'd seen another woman. She saw her when they were washing her off. The woman was a few meters away in this long row of shower heads with no dividing stalls. She was being held upright by a guard like a doll or a dead thing and they would yank her hair to rinse it and her head would snap backwards like it wasn't a head at all. Leia didn't remember much about this other woman because she was busy repeating times tables over in her head, recipes, lines of succession. She had been doing this because she didn't want to stain any positive memory by going to it in the midst of such pain, what if it were ruined forever? She didn't mind if arithmetic was ruined forever. She was a mind without a body.

The other woman was blonde and had a wound on her head and blood looked like a kind of sweet syrup, not real, the sort of thing someone else would have dribbled onto her chocolate cake. Two cups sugar, two cups flour. She could sacrifice her memories of chocolate cake. They made eye contact once, now she was dead. Not of the head wound. Instead she was dead so other people could be alive. It was a sacrifice someone else had decided to make for her. That Leia and the people Leia believed in had decided to make for her.

Sometimes she considered, just as a casual hypothetical thing, what it would feel like, to have died a prisoner in the explosion of the Death Star. What it would be like to be killed by the good guys for the common good. Some of the prisoners, people like her, might eagerly sacrifice their lives but many of them might have scorned the Rebellion as another killer of innocents. It made her feel very dirty, to imagine her ash forever co-mingling with her captors'. When she died she wanted her body to be distinguishable from a villain's. Maybe the blonde woman died feeling dirty. Maybe she closed her eyes and thought of chocolate cake. She gave up her life and Leia gave up chocolate cake, gave up arithmetic.

This, too: what of the sex slaves she'd met at Jabba's, what had happened to them, did someone worse step in to enforce further torments? Were they murdered or did they possibly starve? They did not have tender boyfriends to look after them, to hold them in the night. In the night they punched the weeping ones in the mouths and said shut up about screamers. They had to look after themselves or else they died. And sometimes they died. Leia let them die.

While they were dressing her in that awful outfit she did not collect names, take messages for family members, remember faces. She had closed her eyes and focused on constellations, on geography, on the native fauna of Alderaan. She taught herself how to pronounce all of her friends' names backwards. She added sums up towards infinity. A blasé mind without a body that therefore could not manage to help.

One of them asked her if she was a virgin and she'd said, dead-eyed, staring straight ahead, voice dull, bored, "No, I'm not a virgin."

"That's good," the girl had said, nodding seriously. "It's easier that way."

The look she'd given this girl had been scathing – _the sex I have with my boyfriend in no way makes me better prepared for this, he doesn't humiliate me, I'm not like you._ Things she wanted to say. Instead she'd said, clipped and vacant, "I've been forced before and I didn't much like it. I don't plan on being forced again."  
The girl had gone from sympathetic to sneering in an instant. "Nobody _likes_ it, lady." Her voice biting and bitter and saying _you're on your own now,_ saying _you think you're so much better than me well here's what you get._ Saying selfish slut, made for this, fuckable, fine–– "Nobody _fuckin'_ plans."

 _I didn't know a Jedi was like me, too. I didn't know a princess was like me, too. I didn't know it happened to princesses, too._ Wasn't it better to not know? Wasn't it better to imagine there weren't such stunning multitudes––

 _Hi there, Rowena_ – _your letter and your concerns have stayed with me,_ _I am so sorry to hear about every fucking goddamn axis along which someone might take advantage of a young woman without a home country and without real citizenship status and without a government representative, shuttling between refugee camps – hi there, Rowena, don't worry, I promise I understand more than you can ever know––_

 _I didn't know a Jedi was like me, too –_ smiling, relieved – how much of her was public property? She wanted women to speak up, to not be ashamed – if she kept this private was she endorsing shame… she knew refugee women were more susceptible to sexual violence, _Alderaanian women_ , her people, her peers – worse yet _younger_ than her peers – littlest ones wearing white for only a few years – trying to find white, trying to protect themselves in white – how much of her was public property, how much did she owe?

But then Ben – Ben… the idea of him searching her name on the holonet, seeing something about this, if everybody knew and it was public knowledge, seeing her talk about everything that she had been through, looking at her and seeing that on her, not seeing her as somebody safe, someplace he could go that was safe from harm – her parents had made themselves beacons of safety and comfort and warmth, had never let her see them crack, she must never let him see her crack, he must never remember all these nightmare nights when he grew older, he must never think of all the ways she might be marked and broken…

What if he were a girl, if he were a girl should he know, know all the things that could happen to a woman? To a girl? What if she someday – what if they someday had a daughter (though the thought of having another child caused her chest to literally constrict), would she tell her? One but not the other – could she look a daughter of hers in the eye – should she – what did she have to give, her mother never told her of things like that, how much was she supposed to use herself as an example? Her body as an example? For her child – children – for her people – to the galaxy, she was still a symbol for the galaxy, to the Alliance, other women in the Alliance had surely… she was a role model, a leader…

And she was also now so paralyzed with indecision and anxiety that her hand was trembling, hard, clattering against her mug. Loudly – like a force of nature, like a force of its own. Ben – Ben... he looked stricken, squirming uncomfortably, his face contorting with confused displeasure. She recited times tables in her head, the fauna of Alderaan, the recipe for chocolate cake and forced herself into a noble, unfeeling calm. She finished her kaffe and tapped the baby's nose before leaning close and bumping hers against his, smiling at him, kissing his forehead – _Hello, 'loved._ Grinning at how he responded so warm thing, not a daughter, something in her life that was safe from ever being harm, was right and pure, something she'd not stained, something that was private, _something that was only hers_. "Yes, I love you very much my beloved. Yes, very much so, yes little one, I very much do."

XX.

 _Kirin-_

 _Thanks for all this. Your thoroughness never ceases to impress. More coming your way throughout the day – for now––_

 _1\. Go ahead and coordinate the in-person – I've updated my calendar. In-person certainly must here, correct? I'm not quite ready to take B off-world yet and it seems like this should be obvious given that I'm on leave. Anyway, just let me review before you confirm so I can decide if I'll have his father watch him during or if I'll just bring him in._

 _Yes, we can discuss accommodations in person, although maybe we should come up with better term than "accommodations," as that word doesn't seem quite right. At the risk of sounding dramatic: I am not the only mother of concern. There will be other infants at Remembrance; surely we want all parents and caretakers to be able to fully participate while also looking after their little ones. Especially because the responsibility of soothing and feeding and changing and whatnot so often falls unto the women, young women – I would hate for the service to side-line young women out of the need for their children to be seen and not heard. Nothing is too big or small for_ Alderaanian mothers _, whether or not they are princesses._

 _Off the top of my head though – it would be prudent to ensure there is somewhere to nurse that is not a 'fresher. I think you've watched me make clear to many people many times that this is unsanitary and altogether unacceptable. No doubt you can express this much more politely and with much more warmth and understanding than I can, so please do so._

 _Of course B will have a babynaming. He is Alderaanian._

 _2\. I will be declining this invitation. Please send my regrets to the Commission._

 _3\. Appreciate that, thank you. If I've taught you nothing at all, I must teach you this: you must never allow yourself to be made to plan parties. Captain Solo and I will be visiting the site for the anniversary with friends anyway._

 _4\. Thank you thank you. Those holos were the light of my day. I am so eager to (re)connect with these children. Can you remind me to check on any vaccinations B would need for the locale?_

 _(Better yet if you could check that would be phenomenal – though it is fun playing at being able to get it done myself. And then go ahead and coordinate with medical. Thank you again Kirin, I know this is hardly the most intellectually rewarding sort of task but it really makes such a difference in what I'm able to get done each day. I do appreciate it.)_

 _Data – thank you thank you. Very troubling. I'll be asking you to pull a bit more on this, stay tuned._

 _Calendar – wonderful, thank you. Don't forget to vote! (Don't forget to remind me to vote.)_

 _Correspondence – fantastic, thank you, if I type out replies can you spell-check/grammar-check/princess-check (by which I mean – tonal consistency with previous communications, you can check archives for those, and nix any personal stories I may have included in a haze of wistfulness and homesickness) and then put in the formal formatting and return?_

 _S.B. and K.D. – remind me to introduce you to Shara, she's a fantastic woman and a great person to know, you'd like her._

 _5\. Yes, thank you. I haven't forgotten._

 _With all my best wishes for every good thing––_

 _L_

XX.

When he came home the only sound was a bit of faint splashing and Leia's laughter and he thought _yes, this, yes, this_ and tried not to think about how relieved he felt _._ Followed the sound to the 'fresher – there she was, sitting in the tub like a vision, all that long hair soaked and framing her face, knees halfway to her chest, the baby slick and squirming on her thighs, and _shit_ that smile of hers...

 _Leia, Leia, Leia –_ like the blissful, content alternative to that fucking awful _Security_ holo, laughing her low throaty laugh and being goofy, making jokes of kissing the kid's toes as she counted them, kissing his belly, no blaster or all-white outfit for armor, no tight coiled braids – naked and dripping and gorgeous, the slope of her dripping back gorgeous, the curve of her breasts––

She jerked when she noticed him, grasping onto Ben quickly before relaxing a moment later. "Han!" Giving him a confused smile, finger-combing her hair out of her face. "You're early. I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." He sat on the lid of the sani and grinned at her. "Two birds one stone?"

"Mm, felt like I'd earned it." She wasn't looking at him though, was smoothing Ben's hair so softly and smiling at him as he smiled at her, her movements so delicate, so nimble, sometimes he forgot she was a princess but moments like this he always remembered. "Do you want to say hi to your da, 'loved?" She turned to him then – "Here, come right over here, we're all slippery."

He moved a bit closer and kissed the baby's forehead, rubbing his thumb against his soft cheek. _Hey, you._ Turned his attention to that gorgeous vision, tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, kissed her gently. _Hey, you._ Tasting like someone he knew, like Leia.

She smiled a little against his mouth. "How was your day?"

"Was good. This is better." And kissed her harder, slipping one hand to rub her upper arm, stroke that soft, damp skin.

She kissed him back but did so very gently, not exactly matching his intensity, before turning her head away and flicking her gaze at him. "Han…" That low, warning voice of _maybe not right now_. "It's very slippery in here. I don't want to drop him."

"Come on out then, I'll dry ya both off."

"Mm," she said, switching tactics as well as positions so she was sitting cross-legged and holding the baby over her chest. "Tell me about your day first?"

He sighed and settled back onto the sani. "Was fine, pretty uneventful." _Other than the party where Riekken pulled me into his office to talk to me_ again _about re-upping my commission 'cause the New Republic's military ain't in the best shape after all – and I told him if there was any chance me taking that up would put you on your own with the baby then he could go to hell._ "How 'bout yours?"

"I got a fair amount of work done," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "Luke came over, he finished the mural. It looks very lovely, shame we'll be leaving it behind so soon..."

"Now we just gotta move the crib in there."

"It's making a very nice office at the moment. The rocking chair is much more comfortable than any I've ever had accompany a desk."

"Only you."

She smiled faintly. "Who says working mothers can't have it all?

"You and Luke get to catch up at all? Get any more details about the Antilles situation?"

"Oh – I wasn't here, actually, he was watching Ben while I went to an appointment in medical." Her voice was a bit too casual as she began to squeeze water out of her hair.

"Medical? Appointment for what?"

"Just a check-up, you know. To see how things were – healing, and whatnot."

He frowned. "Could've told me. I know you hate going to those things – I'd've come with ya."

"It really slipped my mind, I needed Kirin's reminder to even remember…"

"Just 'cause they really freak you out." _Freak you out to the point of you gripping my arm with nails digging in and grinding your teeth and going completely white that first check-up, when we heard his heartbeat – how you almost missed it 'cause you were near hyperventilation..._

"Yes, I do recall," she said, a bit too clipped, and he raised his eyebrows.

"It went alright then? The whole – visit?"

She shifted again. "Yes, everything's fine."

"You uh. You get to be seen a woman and all?"

"Blessedly, yes."

"Good," he said seriously. "Good, m'glad. I'm glad it wasn't too bad, then."

"It really wasn't." _But it was._ He could tell by looking at her that it was. But if she didn't want to talk about it he wasn't going to force her.

Indeed it had been – only one part, really, besides the usual pain and panic of stripping and spreading and being touched. The doctor saying _Hmm, I wouldn't normally expect to see this amount of scar tissue…_ and her, staring at the ceiling, whole body tense, having to explain _That's old, that's from before._ The doctor's raised eyebrows – and then how suddenly it felt very important that she knew not Han, not Han, not Han – _from before my husband, I mean – from – years ago, half a decade maybe._ A span that sounded so much longer than "five years." _Maybe._ As if she couldn't name the day, the hour.

"So you're – you're all okay, then? Everything's – how it should be?"

"It was the sex visit," she blurted out, suddenly weary and tired, suddenly feeling cold in the cooling water and too naked and too exposed. "The one right around when you can have sex? To see if you can have sex. So she said I could have sex."

He was giving her a strange look. "That's… good…"

"And then I had another implant inserted – I mean I meant to do it right after the delivery but with everything that happened I suppose it was sidelined, so."

"Better have Kirin get that expiration in your calendar this time," he said, winking, and she grimaced.

"I'm honestly not above that, but only because I can't even imagine if..." _I became pregnant_ again _within these next few years, oh gods..._

"Yeah." He grimaced too, though his timeframe of it being a disaster was a bit shorter than hers. "Perils of heterosexuality, I guess. Tell your brother he's a lucky guy."

"You're such a little _gossip_ , you just can't get enough of this––"

"Ya know the whole damn army spent _years_ placing wagers on you and me, I think we can get a little invested in your brother's mystery man."

"He's not a _mystery_ , he's _Antilles._ "

"You Skywalkers and your Corellians, huh?"

She grimaced almost spastically at _Skywalkers_ , and he sighed, nodding to himself, trusting her to see the apology in his features, and she did. She understood him and he relaxed, and she washed the baby and murmured to him about swimming back home, about family, about how much she loved him and he felt, for once, watching her beam and fuss, at ease.

"Here," she said suddenly, "It's getting cold in here. Can you take him?"

"'Course," he said, _can you, can you, 'course he could,_ that refrain in his head was getting real old but then again so was her saying that, and he grabbed the baby's soft little yellow towel before taking him from her. Wrapped him up tight and kissed his fingers, then his forehead, patting off his hair, the water from his nose… Ben looking at him all curious, his mouth a little "o" of interest, reaching up his little hand and wrapping it around his finger when he gave it to him. Grip tight, like he was looking for someone to hold onto, like he had found it. "You coming out too, princess?" Thinking fleetingly of her standing up and stretching, back arched, whole body dripping and resplendent, or else bending over at the waist to wrap her hair up in a towel… he'd missed her, he'd missed seeing her laugh and seeing her smile and seeing her relax and let down her guard and be soft and vulnerable and wanton and _his_ – why had she had to say it like that, so flat and unreadable, _it was the sex visit and_ _she said I could have sex now, so…_

"Oh, I still need to wash my hair. I was going to drain the tub and then take a quick shower."

"Could––" he started, but he stopped himself. _She said I could have sex now, so._ Not something that wanted a _could put him down and join you_ in response. "Alright, then. I'll get 'im in his pajamas and then start figuring out dinner – take as long as you want, sweetheart, I mean it."

"Thank you, Han. You're wonderful," she said, leaning to kiss him again. Lingering for a second – longer than before – and then pulling back to pull up the stopper over the drain, bending over just a bit. The arch of her back... How could anyone in the Alliance ever think he'd be up to leave her for a second? What'd they take him for? Pointing at the baby and saying, mock-stern, "Behave yourself, you." Saying in the pair's general direction, affection genuine but nonspecific, "Mm, I love you."

 _Thank you so much for all of your supportive comments – they are such a delight!_


	8. 7: Trust

_In exchange for the delay, please accept this very lengthy chapter. Head's up: much discussion of sex and sexual violence._

Chapter 7: Trust

It was his birthday, she had to stop being a coward, she was going to have sex with him.

An odd sort of mantra to repeat internally as she dressed the baby in the overalls she knew he thought adorable (though of course he'd neversay as much aloud) – Poe Dameron's hand-me-downs with a print of starships against a galactic dark blue, but her mantra nonetheless. Birthday, coward, sex – what had Luke teased last night when she'd handed Han the baby to change – something like "aw, really Lei? His birthday's in a few hours!" She'd tsked, unamused and tart and oh-so-Leia – "He's still a father on his birthday." So maybe on his birthday he was still married – _married_ , sometimes it re-occurred to her in a flash like lightning, married, _married_ , _married?!_ – to the same Leia who was growing increasingly anxious about them eventually going to bed and maybe it wasn't anything special, but… _but…_ she had to eventually – rather she ought to eventually, and anyway wouldn't he be expecting it? So to not would be very – would be quite a statement?

He wouldn't expect, he wasn't the type to pressure, he didn't, he was always exceedingly patient – had been, their first time – "hello, yes, yes," she murmured to the baby, tickling his tummy as she snapped the worn buttons – yes, he had been so patient, all those false starts – she felt her smile turning into a grimace, caught it in its tracks – but that was different, now they were – _married?!_ – and it wasn't like she didn't want to because she did, but…

But…

But every time she thought about it something surged within her, something like fear, but it wasn't that she thought anything bad would happen, it just – suddenly these images in her head – not of him, not of – anyone else, the other people who'd – whatever, that wasn't the same but – just these images, of something, someone, closing in. Of a sense of being severed from her body… he'd been the one, once, to make her really feel a sense of _living in_ her own body, now she felt she didn't know it at all… she'd tried to touch herself once, since the baby, but she'd felt ridiculous, like she was trespassing in a foreign country. Lying in bed with her heart racing anxiously, whole body uncomfortably clenched: _feel something, feel good, close your eyes and think of him, relax, relax, relax!_

(Once upon a time, on the way to Bespin – "have you ever touched yourself like this?" " _Han!_ Of course I have, you were stationed on Hoth with the rest of us, weren't you? Have you forgotten what a _bore_ it was? And before that I was in the Senate…")

There'd been a time, as a girl, when she'd unabashedly inspected herself in a hand-mirror, shameless and comfortable and intrigued, now she avoided mirrors especially when undressed… when he found her body again, what if he didn't like what he saw? Before she'd been battered with marks on her back and scar tissue webbed inside her, now she was all of those things and also on edge and sleep-deprived and tender and on top of all that, not especially cute anymore. What if _she_ didn't like when he found her, felt nothing? _Feel something, relax!_ She hadn't felt desire in what felt like ages, instead she felt a more panicked kind of nothing.

This image – closing in, covering her, overwhelming her – too much, far too much – and a sense of both knowing what came next and not knowing at all what came next, informed dread – made her shiver – she felt it sometimes, recently, with him, and when she felt it it made her tremble with trepidation.

Recently, because recently they'd been – inching their way towards – going to bed, towards sex, whatever. Part of her larger mission to reassert herself as a functioning human being or to at least pretend to be one, along with working full days from home, getting dressed, practicing hygiene, abstaining from any and all crying, and trying to be less intense about the baby. The inching part was a mistake: she'd thought of it as her giving him what she could, a sort of make-out-and-stroke-lightly-in-apology-for- _no_ , and he'd probably taken it as a step towards _yes_. Usually she collapsed rather than got into bed or else stayed up far past him but lately he'd seemed to be timing his own rituals just so, so that he ended up with her in the fresher, or when she was getting dressed into night things.

Now she got into bed at night and rallied and steadied herself and shut her eyes and snuggled up against him, let his hot breath waft into her ear and his hands stroke her back, so slowly, dipping lower, lingering… open mouth kisses against his lips, one, two, three, then four… her hands around his neck, her heart racing, he was a bad liar and she could feel him struggling to match her slow, uncertain pace.

And then she'd guiltily draw back and bite her lip and search his expression before pressing her face to his chest and feigning sleep until she woke for the baby, hours later, her body purposeful and ready for use, sitting in the rocking chair in the other room next to the mural of the place she didn't think about lest she start to cry and thinking _you should wake him up right now, to get it over with, once you do it once it won't make you anxious, it'll break the spell, now you've built it up too much, that's why you're anxious about it, because you've built it up._

She felt she could see his want for her everywhere, transparent – the way he watched her dress, the way he scooted closer to her always, the way he so often seemed to be briefly brushing against her, every look a smolder, every touch a promise ofsomething to come… _someone_ to come– ugh…! What a mess – and only a mess would respond to her husband's sweet affection with paranoia, and yet, here she was – sloppy, messy, falling apart.

Maybe she was imagining things? Maybe _she_ was the sex-starved one, secretly, and she was projecting… well, it sure was a secret she'd buried deep, then… she must be projecting very substantially such that she was projecting him being hard against her in the morning when she awoke in his arms, the way it made her feel vulnerable and exposed and _stupid_ – imagining him as infinitely patient was _stupid_ ––

And patience, anyway, was about _soon_ not _when_ – it was an _I don't mind waiting_ not an _I don't mind._ A distinction that was obvious and immaterial – obviously they would sleep together again soon – and yet mattered. Patient on the way to Bespin – because he'd already decided it would happen? No, _she'd_ already decided it would––…

Something, too, that was different about being married – _married_. Obviously they would have sex eventually, they were married, and she wanted that, of course. Besides, she was trying to wait out her own anxiety, too. She missed him, too. _Yes, I miss him, too._ _I miss feeling like I live in my body, too_.

But there was something about the fact that every time she jerked and murmured _I'm sorry, I just don't feel up to this right now_ and he kissed her forehead and said _nothing to be sorry about_ his patience was about _waiting_ , knowing eventually he would outlast her anxiety – knowing he'd get to have her eventually – he would have her eventually – no such thing as a _no,_ only a _not yet_ , on the way to Bespin she was able to say no, now she'd promised to being had – they would have her eventually, one after another – how easy it was to wait when you were certain there would be plenty left for you – they would each wait their turn and then they would have her––

She felt her whole body spasm and heard her free arm smack jerkily against the counter though she didn't feel the pain and she pulled herself roughly out of her rapid descent into flashback by biting hard on her lip, there, she felt that, then running her wrists under cool water. _Not Han, never Han._ The cold sensation bringing her back to reality, reminding her of the baby tucked on her hip, looking up at her wide-eyed.

"I know, I know. 'Excuse me, princess, I believe I had grown accustomed to having my mama's full attention always!' Well, I won't let it happen again."

Shut her eyes and thought of the fight she'd had with Luke last week – "I feel like I'm watching you fall apart, Leia, and I can't just stand by and let it happen!" "If by falling apart you mean successfully keeping up with my work from home while caring for a newborn – if by falling apart you mean negotiating ceasefires while changing diapers –then yes, Luke, please _help_ me, I am so _very_ much falling apart." Combed hair and straight posture and stern sarcasm marking her as competent, as a functional human being.

Her husband's birthday. She wasn't a coward. She was _not_ falling apart – she would function!

She finished putting together her breakfast – her fruit, her kaffe – and settled into her chair at the sparse kitchen table when it occurred to her – it was fine if she touched _him,_ as long as he wasn't touching _her._ She could do a few kisses and then – yes, she could do that.

She could do that, she would stop being a coward, it was his birthday – she cooed to the baby and sipped her kaffe and resolved, _alright Leia, it's his birthday, get in there and blow your husband and_ fix this _before it gets out of hand, before you build it up in your head_ – as if she hadn't!

Just when she was beginning to seriously resolved herself to do just that, she could hear the bedroom door swing open lazily, saw him standing there rubbing his eyes, face scrunched up, hair at all angles, only in his boxers. "Mm… what time's it?"

She smiled at him in spite of herself. "About nine."

"The hell? My alarm didn't––?"

She grinned wider as he shuffled over to her, explaining wryly, "Happy birthday."

"Nice. You sleep okay?"

(He meant her nightmares, not the baby – the thrashing, the screaming, the sleepwalking and crying and sobs...) "Yes, I did," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Six nights in a row now." There was no need to mention the sleeping pills she had started administering to herself in careful doses in order to achieve that result. He didn't understand things like that– it would only worry him.

His face collapsed into a relieved smile. "Excellent," he murmured, and then he was leaning over to kiss her ever so lightly, but she twisted her neck and kissed back hard, surprising him – the tip of her tongue to his, one hand going up to thread through his hair. He pulled back after a moment and raised his eyebrows.

(But she ignored that.) "So? How do you feel?" she murmured, her mouth still quite close to his, before kissing his cheek and pulling back, grinning. "How old are you now – forty-five? Fifty?"

He groaned – "Hilarious, Organa" – before scooping up the baby with ease – she watched as he shifted him onto his hip and held out his hand – "buddy, hey – birthday high five? High five–" before lifting Ben up over his head and grinning with unabashed delight after the baby pressed his little hand against his. Pressing noisy kisses to his stomach and smiling sleepily at him – he held him so easily, like he had loads of experience with infants and didn't constantly live in fear of having his heart ripped out of his chest and torn to a million pieces, none of her own careful possessive clutching on display. He was a good father, a natural, she loved him. _Stop being a coward, Leia, and show him how much you love him._

Instead she smiled a little and said, "There's kaffe in the kitchen," before returning to her reading on her datapad.

He was immensely skeptical: " _You_ made the kaffe. Right." Turned to the baby as he strolled over to the counter – "Your mama thinks she used the machine, lemme tell ya, I don't believe that for a second."

"I really did. Ha-a-a-appy birthday."

"But is it drinkable, that's the real question."

"Have you considered that maybe I've always known how to make it and merely wanted to give you a sense of purpose?"

"Believe it or not, Your Worship, but not all of us live to serve." He poured himself a mug, sipped, and scrunched up his face dramatically – "Alright, it's _almost_ drinkable. Getting closer."

"I live to serve, dear husband."

"Cute."

"Cute and can make kaffee and too tired to be mouthy, every man's dream," she deadpanned, but she was smiling in spite of herself. "Anything in particular you wanted to do today, Captain?"

He sat down beside her, the baby at ease in his arms. "Eh – more like things I'd rather avoid."

"Sounds like adulthood." She tapped the baby's nose and grinned. "You've finally reached it, at thirty-nine."

"Yeah, so top of the list of things to avoid? Sayin' that."

"Adulthood?" she teased.

"Very funny."

"Oh, you mean – thirty-nine?" He groaned dramatically and she laughed, tapping the baby's nose again. "It's okay," she said to Ben, "we still love daddy even though he's practically an old man, don't we? We find the grey oh-so-dashing…"

"Hey, that's a load of––"

"And we'll tend to him in his old age…"

"Listen, princess, I remember you being rather _appreciative_ of my experi––"

"Yes, we're truly only in it for his money," she concluded, winking conspiratorially and tickling under the baby's chin. "Oh, sometimes I feel like _such_ a second wife, you know – virginal, fertile, tending to your home, half your age…"

"Not _half my age_ ," he growled, grabbing her playfully but firmly and pressing possessive kisses to her face, then her neck, then her bare shoulders undeneathr her light robe––

She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, breathed. In, out, in, out, then – "Han…"

He looked up at her and grinned roguishly. His dancing eyes, his messy hair… "Yeah, trophy-wife-of-mine?"

"Charming." _Soon, soon, soon._ _Relax, relax, relax._ "I really should shower." She gave him an apologetic smile.

"Got somewhere to be, princess?"

"More like someone – and that someone is a woman who is _presentable._ "

"Eh, but you know I like you like this." He brushed a hand along her sloppy braid, smiled with a touch of – was it sadness? "All lazy, with messy hair and morning breath."

She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Believe it or not, this trophy wife doesn't dress herself wholly for you."

"Sit with me awhile longer, alright?" he asked, grabbing her wrist lightly, and the transparency of his need took her aback enough that she stayed sitting. It sometimes surprised her, still – that he had such a want for her, that he so wanted to be beside her. "It's my birthday."

"Who knows how many more you'll have left," she teased, sitting back down, but though it sounded funny in her head, a clever dig at his relatively older age, it tasted morbid in her mouth. The idea of losing him, how recently she had lived with this fear – how the minute they'd decided to keep the baby he'd resigned his commission, so she wouldn't – live with that fear again, did he ever feel that way about her, did he feel that way about her now?

If he noticed, he didn't let on. "So? There a cake for me or something, princess? A gift?"

"I was up all night slaving away," she said sarcastically. "A devil's food cake recreation of the Falcon with chocolate ganache, every junky bit of it rendered elegantly in fondant."

"Dunno what the hell you just said but sounds a little out of your depth, gorgeous."

 _Gorgeous, gorgeous…_ She blushed – then cringed – _oh stop blushing like an idiot, he's your husband, relax, dammit, relax, relax!_ "No cake I'm afraid, that's later, but there is a present. A very meager present, but a present nonetheless. I would've done _so_ much more, but of _course_ the _nanny_ had to take a _vacation_ …" She stood up and headed towards the baby's room, taking a deep breath before wiggling her hips just so.

She could hear him exhale, or at least thought she could, and she began to rifle around for the small gift. He called after her – "Hey, about that later – c'we talk about that? Feel like there's been some major miscommunication."

She was back beside him soon enough, braid swept to hang over her shoulder, feeling determined but also uneasy but also a bit ridiculous. "Do tell."

He gave her a dark look. "Who the hell told folks I enjoy parties."

"You enjoy parties? Since when?" she teased.

His look darkened further. "Exactly. _I don't_."

"In case it weren't obvious, their guest of honor is more of an excuse to get people together to drink, rather than the reason."

"Ouch."

"Surely everyone knows by now we're antisocial snobs."

He grinned there – "Antisocial snobs, huh? Sure that isn't just you?"

She sniffed. "You're a different sort of snob from me, but you're a snob nonetheless."

"Am I now."

She did her best to look languid and swaggering, leaning back and kicking up her feet and lopping and arm around the back of his chair. "'The fuck is that guy doing now? Swear to – fuckin' morons – damn, I need another drink – Kriff, sweetheart, why do we go to these things when we don't have to? And why the hell is everyone we know a goddamn idiot?'"

He was laughing hard, she loved when he laughed, oh – "Alright, alright, point taken."

"Every event we attend, all we do is lounge at the bar and make snide comments about people. Oh, don't get me wrong, I very much enjoy it… but do you _know_ how ridiculous we used to look, lounging against the bar and snickering at everyone behind a seltzer and a whiskey, with my belly out to here? Antisocial snobs, to the very end. We snickered at the nurses in the _med center_ when he was _born_ ––"

"They all deserve it," he said dismissively, grinning.

"Surely we can get through one more night?"

"Dunno, feel like the baby makes us lose our edge."

"Teach him to roll his eyes like you taught him to high five, it'll be positively splendid."

"S'it matter that I don't _want_ a party?"

"I told you, you're merely an excuse for a party, nothing will stop it. We'll plead baby and head out early, I promise. I'm an antisocial snob too, love, my agenda is the same as yours." She kissed him softly and grinned against his lips. "Do you want to open your present?"

His fingers teased the hem of the tattered blue robe as if to say _yes, I'd love to unwrap you._ Or was she projecting? Surely she was projecting, she was probably projecting… "Sure, sweetheart," he said, flickering his attention for a second to the baby, who'd begun to doze.

"Card first." She handed the poorly wrapped package to him, then a piece of folded flimsi with splotches of paint on the front. "Ben had some fun with the front. I helped a bit."

He looked so surprisingly delighted that it made her heart clench. She bit her lip and watched him read, his expression drifting between amused and something like genuine heartfelt emotion, so rare – he was smiling to himself, now shaking his head. He slowly read out the last line, eyebrows high, as she flushed. "' _We – I – love you so very much, more and more and along every new axis with each passing day. I so look forward to our family sharing many, many more. With all my admiration, affection, & adoration, L.'" _He gave a low whistle, his grin enormous and goofy and teasing. "Damn, sweetheart. You don't fuck around."

She shrugged coolly, her eyes bright with pleasure and pride – and gratefulness, too, that he had not read aloud the part so neatly inscribed towards the beginning – _This past year has challenged me in ways I could have never imagined, my sense of self surely the only thing more fragile our child, yet throughout it all you have been so…_ "You know I write cards like this." _(You know I write down how I feel about you three times a year because I can't stand to be made vulnerable by saying it aloud…)_

"Yeah, the last one just about knocked me out, but this one – mm, I'll just say thanks. So thanks." He kissed her again.

"You haven't even opened your present yet."

"Right, right." He tore off the paper, and she cringed in advance…

"It's very dumb, I didn't have time for anything creative or clever. And I know it doesn't exactly mesh with your blasé scoundrel image, and I know we _loathe_ these sorts of baby-obsessed people but…"

He was laughing silently, hand over his mouth––

" _But_ I figured you'd just use it when you're deep in the bowels of the Falcon, no one will see – use it so you can keep him close to you. While you work." _Please, please_ _let this say what I want this to say, instead of seeming so incredibly lame…_

He grinned broadly at her. "Seem to remember a princess giving me very specific instructions about any mechanical work 'round her kid."

She took a deep, anxious breath, her hand trembling just a bit… then quite a bit... "She's trying something new, this year, for her husband's thirty-ninth," she said slowly, stilling the disobedient, edgy hand with the other, "it's called letting go and trusting just a bit more."

She could see him searching her face, his narrowed gaze skeptical, a little unconvinced and imagining this to be a little too-good-to-be-true. Gods, he knew her well – could he tell, did he know, everything about the way she thought if she wore competence and contentedness as a second skin than maybe it would become her own. "Alright," he said slowly, giving her a cautious nod and a small, crooked grin. "Good. Best gift I've ever gotten."

XX.

They arrived a full hour late, wearing skeptical expressions, his arm tight around her shoulder. She looked weary, he looked warry, and of course they had the baby – the baby everyone would fuss over until the baby fussed back, ugh... She kept fidgeting, too, tugging on the bottom of her tight black short-sleeved turtleneck – _I look sloppy, it doesn't fit the same, I look ridiculous._

His eyebrows flying high, higher – _No, you look great, sweetheart._ He'd tried to say it as mildly as possible, ducking his head away and clearing his throat as she cupped her breasts delicately and frowned. She wasn't wrong – the shirt definitely did not fit the same. The new curves and the old shirt plus the rare addition of an actual bra… now, too, with her hair swept up and coiled on top of her head, her dark lipstick, even her fucking _frown_ – she looked – "great," she looked _great…_

Her mouth twitched as she scanned the room, the laughing recruits with drinks – and he was watching her face, too, when her eyebrows flew up and she broke into an amused smile, took him a second to realize she was elbowing him hard, and that everyone had turned to look at them because folks were chorusing, "Hey! Solo's here!"

He rolled his eyes at her and she rolled hers back at him. Heard a "Princess Solo too, Mini Solo––" and some laughter and she pressed her lips in a firm line but managed a tight smile and kissed his cheek, probably leaving a smear behind, mustering a murmur right by his neck – "Mr. Antisocial Snob, oh, he's so very popular…" Her hot breath… – but he could tell she was _mustering…_

"Excuses to get drunk are popular," he murmured back, and she readjusted her grasp on Ben and grinned into his hair.

"Hey!" Luke, then, beaming at them wide and sounding a little sloppy. "Hey, you guys! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show!"

"We figured we'd make an appear––" Leia started, but was interrupted by Luke throwing his arms around her husband.

"Happy _birthday_! I can't even _believe_ it – you're so – _forty!_ How does it _feel_ ,that's so––"

"Not _forty_ ," he growled. "Fucking _hell_ , I'm not _forty_ ––"

"You feel different," Luke whispered conspiratorially, "in the Force, you feel more… mature…."

"Well, you know, between thirty-eight and now, he got married and became a father, so…" Leia quipped drily – she hated that, the whole look-how-grownup-he-became, as though he weren't plenty grownup at fifteen years her senior, as though becoming a wife and mother hadn't challenged her – _twenty-four-year-old_ her – in more ways than she could ever imagine... "I'm going to go find a corner that's quiet, okay?"

He frowned the don't-leave-me-alone frown. "Thought you and I were going to stand by the drinks and snicker?" he said, low, by her ear.

"Soon," she promised, her voice faltering just a bit.

"Drinks!" Luke exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You guys want drinks? Let's get drinks!"

"Thank you, I don't yet," she said lightly, and before Han could protest she had kissed him lightly and slipped away.

"She seems pretty good," Luke said, blinking in surprise as they both looked after her.

"Yeah," he replied, frowning. "Well, she definitely wants to come across that way."

"I don't know, she really – she really seems good," Luke said brightly, walking him over to the drinks. "I mean, fewer nightmares this past week, so––"

Han jerked. "How do you––?"

"Force thing – she sort of – calls out, kinda," he admitted, almost in apology. "What're you having?"

Han's face twisted, and he said distractedly, "Just – a beer, or something, don't wanna…" He took one from Luke and shook his head as if to clear it, but couldn't – "You – can you – d'you see that stuff?" he asked edgily. Thoughts racing like _can you see it, would you tell me, would I want to know._

Would he want to know – he knew around the edges of everything she'd been to, she'd left him a lot of details to fill in himself – he'd never asked for more, never – there'd been a time, too, when he'd wanted – to know, had wanted to know, had tortured himself by lying in bed and staring at the ceiling and trying to put the pieces together, figure out every sequence of events. As though if he knew then he could help her better, understand her more – make sure she never cringed, he never made her cringe…

What did Luke know, that he didn't know? He always thought he had it figured out and then something would slip – some words – when she'd cried for the first time in sleep _no, no, I hate it!_ it was like a jolt through him, realizing that – _things_ had been – _said_ to her… a whole new slew of images in his mind, and sometimes he thought that if he knew exactly – then he wouldn't have to keep trying to uncover what exactly… could stop guessing…

She could scare him, sometimes. She was tricky. She liked to play at having it together, go through the motions – torture herself. Leave him to figure it out, what made her jump. Piece it together… she'd leave it to him to piece it together…

He'd been with her, once, when she was dissociating? _In_ her – he cringed internally at that – when she – only once, normally if it came it was right after, a dash to the bathroom, or else in the middle of the night – after a nightmare, eyes huge and spooked, backing up into the corner and breathing heavy for long moments, him trying to rub sleep out of his eyes and control the urge to wrap himself around her and fucking – smother her in safety. Overall not often, though, she wasn't – _crazy_ , or – she just shut down, he knew this about her, apparently it was some kind of psychic – coping mechanism, whatever – he'd mumbled to her, once, _I just – I don't know how you got through it, babe_ and all she'd said was that when it happened she wasn't there.

Wasn't there. Picturing her vacant, dull expression as her head thumped hard against a floor, again, again, again, _fuck_ ––

Only once. When he was. With her – in her – with her. Behind her, and so in the moment that it took him a few moments to realize when she'd stopped making the small sounds she usually made – he'd stammered out _princess?_ and leaned and twisted to try to get a better look at her face – and she was… – dead-eyed, lips in a tight line, staring straight ahead. Not anxious or sad or even pained – even pained would be better, just – not there, she wasn't there. _…Sweetheart?_ The only time he'd ever heard his own voice sound scared. And at the sound of the pet name she'd just angled her ass into more of an arch and dropped her head, as if she thought him prompting her into submission.

Somewhere else. Not there. What freaked him out most about that memory, when he returned to it which was whenever he was feeling like torturing himself sounded like fun, wasn't even that he'd brought her to that place but that moments had gone by during which he hadn't noticed. Hadn't been able to see past the mask of matching his movements and playing along – he was supposed to be the one person who could melt her, who knew what she'd been through, who could see past the mask…

"Yeah, only sometimes," Luke said, frowning and interrupting his thoughts. "I don't know, I don't really wanna…"

"Yeah yeah, of course." He looked down, and the beer in his hands had suddenly become empty.

"She _looks_ great," Luke offered, grabbing him another and handing it to him without a word.

"Yeah. Yeah, she's great, it's all…" Yeah, she looked great, but that made him more suspicious, not less – this wasn't a way to live, though, doubting her like this? Left over from a before time, when he couldn't trust a soul other than Chewie and himself. He had to trust her this time, if he wanted her to trust him? Needed her to trust him – that ridiculous baby sling thing, it _meant_ something, he knew it meant something, and what it meant was something about trust… "It's all great."

"Thirty-nine," Luke said, shaking his head. "Got any sage wisdom, old man?"

"Hmm," Han said distractedly, scanning the room for Leia. Only half-listening to himself, really… "Say yes to the farmboy, keep after the girl. Guy, I guess. Where is he, anyway?"

"Over there, with Leia," Luke said, pointing, and sure enough, there she was, tucked into a corner with Antilles, smiling politely and sipping a seltzer and patting the baby's back. "Should we go over?"

"Yeah, let's." He shook his head again, followed Luke over. For a moment he thought about surprising her, wrapping his arms around her tight and making her his but that wasn't something they did, the two of them, so instead he slowly sat down beside her and kissed her temple. "Missed ya for a bit there, gorgeous."

"Hi," she murmured, her smile a little strange. "Having a good time?"

"Am now – Antilles," he said, nodding.

"Hey there – happy birthday! What is it this year, forty?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Thirty-nine," he corrected gruffly.

"Gettin' close, then!"

"Haven't you heard? He's old now, all domestic-like – I heard he's even _married_ ," Leia drawled lightly, sipping her seltzer.

"Pshh, you two've been basically married since – hmm, whatdaya think Skywalker?"

Luke took the sleeping baby from his sister easily and without a word, holding him close. "Hmm… maybe Hoth? When he used to bring her back – what, like eyeliner or something? And shampoo, the starfruit shampoo." He snorted lightly: "Used to yell at each other like they were married on Hoth, anyway."

"Hmmm… there were those rumors they accidentally got hitched drunk on that one mission, though, weren't there? Before Hoth, right?"

"Right!" Luke exclaimed, laughing and clapping and then letting a hand rest on Wedge's knee, and Leia, the princess of discretion, raised her eyebrows just a tad. "Right, I forgot about that one…"

"Glad we were such compelling entertainment for so many years," Leia said.

"Were?" Wedge said. "Don't sell yourself short, you still are…"

"Are we?" Her smile was becoming a little more genuine, a little looser, and she leaned against Han a bit more. "I don't know, I think we've become a bit mundane."

"You kidding? You have a cute kid, that's a whole new level of entertaining."

"Lovely," she murmured, but she was grinning.

"Makes the whole mom and dad thing make more sense, too," Luke added, snickering.

"Mom and dad…?"

"Han's recruits – from when he was still enlisted? You didn't tell her?"

Han scrunched up his face. "Yeah, no. Not repeating that."

"They _loved_ him," Wedge explained, leaning in conspiratorially. "They thought his whole grumpy act was _adorable_ , you know, and the more he was gruff and brushed them off, the more they loved it."

"He's a handsome man," Leia said, grinning, and Han groaned.

"And, they were, you know, of _our_ generation," Luke continued, laughing, "so they took to calling him Dad – not to his face, mostly, but – you know, after he'd bark orders and stomp off – they'd say to each other, _hey man, you heard Dad, get to work_!"

"I love it," she declared, beaming.  
"And, you know, you became Mom pretty quickly afterwards, once folks found out you weren't made of stone…"

"Who said I'm not made of stone," she dared, raising her eyebrows.

"Anyway, now that you're actual _parents_ , seems a _lot_ less weird," Luke concluded brightly.

"Glad we got that out of the way realquick," Han said, snorting, and she rolled her eyes lightly.

"Okay, actually," Luke said, smiling wide, "now that I've got you both – can give you your birthday present!"

"Can't wait," Han drawled. "S'it glow with the Force, or…?"

"Better," Antilles said slyly, and suddenly Leia found herself flushing and anxious and reaching out for the baby instinctively. Luke passed him to her and she held him close, flesh feeling prickly, very wary.

"You guys," Luke said, grinning good-naturedly, "are going to get some sleep tonight."

"We sleep plenty, thank you," Leia said quickly, giving an edgy, quizzical smile, and she felt Han's arm around her tighten – if she looked up, she would see him turning his head to the side slowly but seriously, his eyes full of warning.

"Yeah," Han said slowly, "we sleep."

"So then you're going to get some not-sleep," Wedge retorted, winking at Han, and while once she might have come up with a clever interjection now she felt paralyzed with dread and could only stare.

"There is cake and frozen pizza on the Falcon," Luke continued, "and as you may know, I am _very_ adept at looking after my nephew, can sleep on your couch so he doesn't get all bent out of shape being in another place…"

"Kid," Han was beginning, his voice low, "C'mon, that's not…"

" _And_ tomorrow's Sunday, so you don't have anywhere to be…" Wedge continued.

Leia was quivering just a tiny bit. _Keep smiling that smile and keep your face still._ She repeated the command in her head once, twice, three times – and once her face was sufficiently smiling and still she could work up to oh-stop-there's-no-need-for-that gratefulness, yes, okay – "Oh stop," she said, blushing on her own command, "there's no need for that. We get on perfectly fine."

"It's all worked out," Luke was saying to them both, his smile so irritatingly genuine. "Besides, it's impolite to refuse a gift."

He was watching her, she knew – Han, that is – and again she kept her face very still, her body tense but not too noticeably, yes, surely it wasn't noticeable, the one thought pulsing through her head: _I'm the gift. I'm the gift. I'm the gift._ Staying at their place to watch the baby, a night to themselves on the Falcon, everything worked out, _and all for his birthday –_ what, would there be lingerie waiting for her in the Falcon, too? All worked out?! – and the trembling thought louder, anxious and angry, _I'm the gift, I'm the gift, I'm the gift._ And then before she could stop it, one especially loud flicker of anger, surging through her thoughts and into Luke's almost involuntarily, she could tell because he nearly staggered back and looked at her with enormous eyes, words she had never thought of, an anger she'd never felt towards him: _You're pimping me out!_ The cup on the table behind him untouched but suddenly crushing into itself, her thoughts racing – _did I do that?_

Suddenly the baby was shrieking, and for once she was _grateful_ for that, immediately started soothing him and let Han fuss too, avoiding Luke's wide-eyed stare, his hand curling over the crushed cup – "Shh, 'loved, it's okay, it's okay…" She shut her eyes and held the baby very close, kissing his hair and trying to calm herself. Suddenly she was jerking up, desperate to turn away and hide her face… "Sh-sh-sh, Mama's here, I've got you, you're okay, you're okay…" Holding him tight, was she holding him too tight, she felt like she was suffocating… _wife, mother, princess, lover…_ so much, everyone wanted to so much… _wife, mother, princess, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover…_

Luke had his hand over the crushed cup, still, was trying desperately to meet her gaze, but she wouldn't let him. "It's very late," she said apologetically, trying not to look too rigid as she flashed a perfect princess smile. "He must be so tired, we should get going…" She felt Han standing up behind her in a clatter, could see him setting his jaw out of the corner of her eye.

"Leia," Luke was saying slowly, "it's really nothing. Take a night off, will ya? You guys can eat cake, sleep in."

"Could be nice," Han said cautiously, and he kissed her hair and she could feel him inhale and she bit down hard on her lip. "C'mon, sweetheart. You wanna get some sleep for once?"

"We've never left him before," she murmured, trying to hide the way her heart was pounding. _Stop being a coward. Stop being a coward. It's only Han, it's only Han… you love him, you love him, you love him Leia and he's only Han._

His lips against her temple, her head tilting back to touch his chest. "Lucky you've got a built-in baby monitor plus telepathy with the babysitter then, right?"

"Right," she said without even feeling herself make the decision to say it. "Right," she said, nodding slowly, on autopilot now, talking more to herself, "Right, so I pumped before we came so you should be covered there, and then he's been a bit stuffy so just check on him every so often, and you have the access codes plus if you need anything at all you really shouldn't hesitate to––"

"I got it," Luke said, and there was the voice in her head again, small but serious, scared – _I'm the gift. I'm the gift. I'm the gift._ "You guys are too funny," he said, shaking his head. "You're so…"

"Old?" Han supplied, rolling his eyes to her, and she smiled at him – she loved him, she loved him…

 _Eating pizza, eating cake, sleeping in… Or not sleeping…_ Yes, she could, she wanted to, she would… "So old, so fussy," she murmured to Ben, kissing his forehead and inhaling. _You must be brave, 'loved. You must be brave, and I'll be brave too._

 _You must speak up if you need anything – cry or – call to me, whatever you need – and I'll speak up too, I'll be honest as to what I need, too. What I want, too._

"Mm, here, say goodbye to your da," she murmured, handing him the baby, and he took him and kissed his forehead looking so fleetingly happy and she loved him, Han, and the baby too of course, she loved him, she loved him… _trust, trust trust…_

"Alright," she said lightly as Han handed the baby over to Luke and she passed Wedge her diaper bag. "Well then. _Thank you._ "

"Mm, yeah, thanks," Han echoed, his arm tight around her shoulders yet again, his expression unreadable.

Luke was still peering at her, but nodded slowly. "Of course. Happy birthday – glad you'll get some time to, you know. Relax."

 _#_

 _I find every single comment so encouraging, so thank you for them – and for those of you following along silently, it's never too late to start commenting._


	9. 8: Please

_There is sex in this very lengthy chapter. If that's not your thing, read to the first break and then skip to the third section and you should be fine. Again, apologies for the delay, but I hope the 8000 words is a good reward!_

8: Please

How many times had she done this exact walk up the ramp, anticipation low and warm inside her? Too many times to count. Never this quiet, though, never this pensive. If she lined all of her thoughts up one in back of the other she could create a thread long enough to make another full layer of coverage between her skin and her underthings, a soft little shell to protect her tender flesh. Something like callous or a hymen, except that was a patriarchal imaginary, or if it wasn't she'd lost it many years ago climbing through trees or swinging on something upside down, some innocent thing that had never felt vulnerable, believed nothing bad could ever happen to her. Sometimes she still believed that, that nothing bad could ever happen to her. Maybe nothing bad would ever happen to her, ever again? Every bad thing some kind of puberty she had to pass through to get to the now of – what, of being a finished product? Of being ready to look after better men – wife and mother, _lover, lover––_

Her body marked up to show it, stretch marks and scar tissue the lesser acne scarring of some traumatized galactic underclass…

Or she could use the thread to make the most complicated, elaborate lingerie – the kind with bows and ribbons and criss-crosses of peaking, teasing… she'd never come to him like that, she relished in the fact that her wardrobe was made up only of staples, did he want her to come to him like that, like someone else, another, sexier Leia – without so many hang-ups, who took it like a grown-up, who had already turned thirty – she had so many years left before thirty – negligee like a present, wrapped up like a present, _she was the present_ ––

"You want some water?"

Leia jerked out of her thoughts, and nodded, giving a small, surprised laugh. "Do you also feel like it's just after prom night?" she murmured as she leaned back against the counter of the galley.

He snorted. "You have a prom?"

"No, but I have the cultural competency to know what comes after one."

He raised his eyebrows and handed her the glass. "Huh. So what comes after prom then, princess?"

"Oh...something between a mediocre handjob and first-time intercourse lasting all of fifteen seconds, right?"

"Hmmm, well, do either of those sound appealing to you? 'Cause I dunno..."

She could tell he was trying hard to be casual, his blase manner just a bit too cool… a part of her wanted to mirror it, posture, but that felt absurd – they _weren't_ after prom night, they were married…

(And meanwhile, by the way, was he also thinking about the baby too? The baby not with them right now? Somewhere where she couldn't reach out her arm and find him, grab him if she needed to – what if she needed to – something ridiculous in her mind, something about needing to bolt? On Hoth, when they'd needed to bolt – how far to – how long to – this was stupid, she was being very stupid – the baby she could feel in the back of her head like an itch, an itch that didn't need her... but this was nonsense…

Nonsense she was trying to hide behind to avoid thinking about fucking her husband…)

"It's a spectrum," she said, sipping her water and raising her eyebrows back at him from just over the rim. "There's a whole world of toothy blowjobs in between those two."

His voice wasn't full-on flirtatious, not at all, more like he was – seeing how far she was going to take this. Intrigued. "Mm. There anything in there for you?"

 _Those are for me too,_ she thought with sudden clarity – well, not the toothy part, she liked to think she'd far surpassed that, but the rest of it... _When I do that for you I do it for me, too. I do it for how it makes me feel, too._ Pleased and powerful and confident and sexy, for a while there – in control. And now? Something like that, it would make her feel something like that – hopefully it now had the power to make her feel like everything was alright between them, like she was alright, like she was alright for him, the same for him, to him, the same…

She ran her index finger around the rim of the cup, movements slow and deliberate. "No-o, I don't think so… I can't imagine boys after prom night having a real understanding of – or an interest, really, in bringing a woman to orgasm… right? Surely…" And she bit down ever-so-gently, ever-so-slowly on her lower lip.

There was another Han who would've wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and moved his hips against her and hummed into her ear something about the difference between boys and men, about wasn't she such a lucky girl to have someone with a _bit_ more experience, who, uh, _took an interest…_

Instead, he cleared he throat and said, voice low, "Listen, sweetheart – forget about whatever – the kid and Antilles were gettin' at, alright? Fuckin'... look, far as I'm concerned, we're here to get some long overdue uninterrupted sleep."

She very slowly met his eyes and tilted her head to the side, moving through just-a-bit-alluring poses like the warrior stances she'd trained in once. _Be brave, relax, you love him, relax._ "And if I'm not tired?"

She watched him inhale and look at her steadily and a part of her was laughing inside, laughing and laughing – this was her husband, why was she so nervous, why was she acting like he was a stranger – oh…

And maybe he was thinking – oh _yes_ , he was thinking those teeth on those lips, the way she tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, the very slight tilt of her hips as she edged towards him. "Princess..."

 _Relax, relax, relax:_ giving a small smile, pressing a very delicate kiss to his neck… "At least I don't _think_ I'm tired…" A little lower, then, the base of his neck, his collarbone...

Plucking his hands from her waist when they traveled there, fiddling with his fly – "Hey – mm, Leia…"

Trying to give a demure, teasing, playful smile – she wasn't going for sex queen, she was going for Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, who loved it and loved him but wasn't some mindless vamp – who loved going to bed with him because she was smart and passionate and confident, not a worked-up ditz – "Because I feel like we didn't _really_ get to celebrate your birthday…" She was going to do it, she was going to do it, she was going to take him in her mouth and––

She was sinking to her _fucking_ knees and…

"Nope, alright, nope, get up, nope. Get up."

She jerked up and drew back, eyes aflame, pulse pounding, face hot with embarrassment. "You do _not_ order me around like that, Han Solo, you _especially_ do not order me around with anything related to––" _Sex, you do not order me around with ANYTHING related to sex, EVER, EVER, EVER––_

"You don't – just – _drop to your_ _knees_ to – like you're some – like I – !"

"Like I'm some what!"

"M'sorry for – look, I didn't mean to _order_ but––"

"Like I'm some _what_ , Han? Finish your sentence, like I'm some _what?_ " (Her thoughts spinning out of control now, into some kind of delirious panicked righteousness: _Like a whore, do you think I look like a whore, when I go down on you, or do you think of whoever else I've had in my mouth, do you think I look weak on my knees, like a whore, like some dancing girl on a chain, like not a princess, do you think I look like someone who belongs to someone, Han, do you like it?_ )

"Like you're – like you're doing some _service_ ––"

"Service!"

"Leia, just – _please_ , Leia – _talk_ to me––"

Her name, twice like that, such a short span – "I don't know what you mean," she insisted hoarsely, looking away.

"You're not – _fuck._ " He yanked a hand through his hair, then let it come down hard against the counter. It made a loud clatter and she flinched. "Okay. Alright. You understand why I'm a bit goddamn _skeptical_ that out of nowhere you're suddenly all revved up about sex."

"Have you considered that we haven't had a night alone since––"

"I'm not an idiot, Leia."

"When did I say––"

"S'that what you think of me? You think I want you to just – put – whatever it is you're dealing with––" Here he gestured ambiguously, face tense and hard with frustration, "––aside and just – suck me off what, because it's my birthday? You think I'd want that from you?"

"Whatever it is I'm 'dealing with'?"

"Stop playing dumb, alright – with sex, okay, whatever it is with––"

"I had a _baby_ ––!"

"I don't know when you got it in your head that I can't read you like a goddamn book but you should know that I can so just quit it."

She was still for a while, hands fluttering anxiously at her sides, before grinding out, "I just – I wanted to – make things – I want things to feel – _normal,_ again, I don't know why that's so – _heinous_ to you, I wanted to make things––"

He looked – livid, he looked livid, like he was talking to someone he couldn't stand, like he loathed her, like – "Princess, I literally – I don't care if you never want to go to bed with me ever again, alright? _Fuck_ – I just want you to be _happy_. Okay? _Fuckin'_ – Kriff."

Her voice, weak and scratchy. "I am happy." _She would not cry, she would not cry…_

He peered at her and raised his eyebrows and gave her a crooked half-smile, like sadness, like being disappointed but not altogether unsurprised. "Are you?"

And then suddenly it was like she was being rushed to him by a strong current, crashing into him, throwing her arms around his neck even while he kept his by his side, set and stoic – kissing every inch of his face – " _I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy…_ " His neck, his collarbone, he didn't stop her but he didn't touch her, _"I'm happy, I'm happy, please, I'm happy_ …" Back up, then, on her tiptoes, kissing both of his cheeks once, twice, three times, "Please, I love you, I swear that I'm happy, please believe me." Her throat tight: "Please, Han, please."

He was squinting down at her, jaw set, like he was inspecting her face for something – what did he see there? Did he find what he was looking for? After a moment he moved his hands to carefully cup her face, tilting it up towards him – still looking at her hard.

She tried to make her face look like – well, she didn't know what – whatever he wanted – someone he wanted – someone like Leia, another, happier, more put-together Leia – the kind of Leia he'd wanted, that he wanted, would want… What did he see, when he looked at her, why did it feel like he could see everything? As always, he could see everything. Her lips parted, her eyes big and vulnerable… _Please, I'm happy, I swear, please…_

He gave a slight, halting nod. "Alright." The word coming out slow and skeptical, all caution, all wary seriousness.

"Alright," she echoed, strangled, breathy, and then his lips were on hers.

How many times had she kissed him in the past few weeks? Many – kissing him was a nonevent, like breathing or changing her clothes or braiding her hair – and even more recently when things had grown steamier still they had been cautious kisses, like he was waiting for her signal to stop, which wasn't a lie, she had always given the signal to stop, now...––

Now he kissed her with _urgency_ , his hands still cupping her face, his tongue insistent on access to hers almost immediately, she gave it to him, she wanted to give him anything, everything, whatever he wanted, she was happy, wasn't she, and she loved him – her hands threaded through his hair tight as if to try to hold onto something – one of his hands, then, down to her waist, pulling her closer – she kissed him back hard, harder, rising onto her tiptoes to push her lips against his more firmly, get a better angle––

And then one of his hands was on her back, upper back, as if holding her up, the other low, lower, and she tilted her head back and he was kissing her neck – so urgently, his mouth hot and demanding, sucking lightly, marking her up, she knew he was marking her up – let a breathless little gasp escape from her mouth as she let her head drop back, and he was cursing softly against her neck as he nipped at it, something like _fuck,_ something like _Leia, Leia, Leia…_

He noticed the way her hands were quivering before she did, was confused at first why he moved back up to plant soft kisses on her lips and murmur something like _shh,_ something like _I got you._ Knew her body better than she did, how onslaughts like that could sometimes put her on edge, held her close and kissed her gently until her hands stilled their rattling––

"I'm happy," she breathed against his lips, her voice sounding like a stranger's to herself, otherworldly, too confident to be the woman whose thoughts were a fever pitch of panicked self-loathing. As if by saying something she could make it true. "I want you."

She didn't know why she expected him to jerk back but even so it was thus a gorgeous surprise when he nodded, kissing her deeply, before murmuring against her mouth, "Slow, alright?"

She nodded almost urgently, then shut her eyes, willed herself to relax, trust, be brave, breathe: "I love you."

" _Mm_ – love you you too."

XX.

She felt like she was flying, soaring, falling somewhere else, spinning out, someone else – time all skewed, one second she was pressing him up against him and threading her fingers through his hair in the galley and kissing him urgently and then she was in his bunk feeling his fingers plucking out pins, pressing his lips to her wrists, the inside of her elbows, her forearms, those tiny splashes of exposed skin, tantalizing and taut – and she was laughing, she was laughing a little, soundlessly, a little delirious, too tired, spun out, spinning––

" _Mm_ ––" His mouth kissing below her ear, then, voice low, the place below her belly full and warm and tingling – "You want lights on or off, princess?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Her voice coming out again like an intoxicated spiced-up laugh. _On or off_ – thinking about the lines all over her, the blues and pinks, the stripes, the pockets of fat still and how her pussy must look, like someone else's, all undesirable mystery, like something you don't know but don't _want_ to discover, someone else's ugly and untouchable cavern, and also how unshaven she was – "Maybe – off…?"

She could feel him nodding in surprise against her neck, fingers fiddling to push down the turtleneck, kiss past it – "You'll be – alright?"

 _You'll be alright?_ Right, because often the lights off made her skittish, when she couldn't see him, when she couldn't see the room, when she could be anywhere – "I'm just – feeling – a bit… a bit shy…" she confessed breathily, pulling at the collar to give him better access.

And she could feel his tongue sliding, mouth sucking––

"Hmm – compromise," he said huskily, and then the small, blueish lamp was illuminating them both just barely. "Better?"

"Better."

He was smiling at her, saying "Good" into her neck and then kissing her hard again, low sounds coming from his throat as he laid back down with her – she had this effect on him, yes, she still had this effect on him, she was still––

And it felt good, didn't it? She was trying hard to track his hands, memorize exactly where they were and where they were going, but it was difficult, it felt good, it felt difficult….

Tracking her own hands, shaking but insistent, that pulled off his shirt and clung to him, so close, and he was warm, felt warm, the same warm, he felt the same––

His hands on the hem of her shirt, those warm, long fingers sliding against her hips, flickering over her stomach, tip of his thumb scratchy and somehow soft against all that fragile healed-up skin, then, voice low and heavy, lips on hers, feeling him speak against her mouth, "This okay?"

This as in – right, this was a prelude, to more, to what was next, to taking it off, to taking – it, _oh––_

"Yes, this is okay…"

And then, there, him kissing her hard, his fingers hooking onto the hem of her shirt and very, very slowly peeling it off of her.

She felt herself coming together in on herself, arms collapsing forward automatically, shoulders hunched, looking away and biting her lip, small, nervous smile. _Don't look, don't look, don't––_

"Hey," he murmured, reaching out to touch her fingertips.

She gave a short laugh. "Hey." Webbed skin, soft flesh, white patches, stripes…

"Hey, you – hey… you're gorgeous." Pulling her back onto the bed, diving towards all of the exposed skin, "Fuck you're gorgeous, _fuck_ you're––"

Smiling, spinning, the feeling of his lips on her shoulders, on her collarbone, below – unable to stop the anxious, insecure words from tumbling from her lips: "Oh… do you really think so?"

"Gorgeous..." Mouth sucking and nipping and licking, her flesh feeling almost aflame – feeling fully aflame – something like fire, she couldn't track his hands... " _Sexy_ …"

Laughing lightly and tilting her head back to bring his attention back to her neck: "Oh, really? Sexy?"

Hands tracing the new curve of her waist into her hips as if to underline the word, " _sexy_ …" cupping, then squeezing her ass, "mmhm – sexy…" cupping her breasts almost reverently – " _Sexy_ ––"

She sucked in a sharp breath: "Careful, please – gentle…"

He kissed her lips quickly, thumbs running very gently over the upper swell of her breasts, dipping into the cleavage, there hadn't always been quite so much cleavage…"'Course, 'course…" Kissing her harder, thumbs sweeping, she kissed him harder, he was warm…

Wiggling out of her pants and impulsively swinging her legs around his waist after he'd kicked off his own, he was on top of her, kissing her hard, then she was on top of him, his hands squeezing her ass like he loved it, loved her, she was smiling against his mouth in spite of herself.

He fixed his attention back onto kissing her neck, sucking on her pulse point, and whenever she would let out a quiet gasp he'd grunt softly against her skin, pleased, her fingers tight in his hair and he started to fiddle with the clasp of her bra – "This okay, Lei?"

She ducked her head and pressed it into the crook of his neck, tensing slightly. "Mm, I don't – I wish you wouldn't…"

He was rubbing her back, then, long strokes, long fingers tracing the sensitive spots on her spine, he knew every inch of her, his broad hands… "So goddamn beautiful, sweetheart… wanna see you..."

"I'm gross…" she breathed into his neck, feeling her face flushing, her throat clenching. "I'm sensitive… mm, sore… I leak…"

"Trust me?"

"...Okay, but not on the––"

"Yep, got it."

She heard the soft click and felt the rush of cold that was soon replaced by the warmth of him covering her, gently moving her arms out of the straps, the low, long exhale as his breath escaped him – she felt her teeth coming down on her lips again, not sultry but anxious, settling her arms around his neck to resist the urge to cover herself… looking right into his eyes, vulnerable, anything, nervous, safe… " _Leia…_ " Brushing her hair from her face, so tenderly, she felt like she was spinning again – "Relax, okay?"

"Oh, alright," she quipped breathily, sarcasm slipping from her lips before they pressed against his. "I'll just relax, easy, no problem... "

"Easy..." he mumbled, lips moving from hers, eyes flicking to look at hers and give her a warm, slight smile. "So beautiful…"

She rolled her eyes just slightly, flushing – had someone told him, surely someone told him, to tell her she looked lovely when she didn't? It felt cheesy, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it felt good…

Speaking of feeling good…

She was spinning as he lowered himself down her body, closing her eyes – trying to relax, breathe – relax, relax, he loves you, he's gorgeous, he thinks that you're gorgeous… his face right by her breasts, her breath coming in tight bursts, delicate open-mouthed kisses on the top of her breasts, then the sides, between them, his tongue, and then thumbs stroking the undersides cautiously, and then very slowly swirling his tongue around one nipple, then the other.

" _Mm!_ "

"No good?" he breathed, and his breath was hot and moist and––

"Good, _so_ good, just – careful… just – a minute, I need..."

A long pause, breathing, breath… she felt – out of control, she felt – warm, _hot_ , she felt out of control, she wanted him, she wanted control, she felt herself quivering, she felt everything, his desire hot and hard against her leg, the way she felt dizzy, she way she felt _too much_ …

"More?"

 _More?_ She felt too much and – _more, more…_ she felt right with him, she felt – something like normal, she felt – something like how she once felt… She wasn't the type to talk too much and normally neither was he, so instead she rolled her body forward just a bit, as if to say – _everywhere, please, please…_

And his hands, then, hooking now on her panties, how she lifted her ass as though possessed to help him, how her hand moved between his legs to – rub, just slightly, rub, then stroke… how his breath hissed out of his mouth, like he wanted her, like he thought she was gorgeous, sexy––

And then he was rubbing, so gentle, the inside of her thighs, fingers like fire, before ducking his head to kiss – her abdomen, first, all those marks, she shut her eyes and cringed and he sighed like he knew her, like he understood, and his breath was hot and moist and heavy and then he was moving downward and kissing her inner thighs and––

"Mm, no, not that…" she managed to gasp out, twisting slightly, eyes flickering down at him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he whispered, resting his cheek on her thigh and stroking the sides of her legs slowly, warming them up.

"I don't – mm, your – _face,_ I – still feeling a bit… a bit shy, like I told you, I… don't want you to… see, I don't know, I––"

"Lei-a…" he teased gently, reaching up to squeeze her hand – so careful, like he loved her, like she was someone he was nervous about scaring off. "It's only me."

"Mm… I just feel so – I haven't even – really… really looked, I…"

"Don't wanna you to do... anything you don't wanna do," he murmured against her thigh, kissing it again, affectionate. "But… I think – you're so – gorgeous… and… hot… and... want you to – relax, love you, I love you, I..."

 _Okay, hotshot,_ she mouthed, catching his eye and biting her lip. _Okay,_ and then there he was – there he _was_ ––

His tongue tracing her opening in one long, warm swipe, and she felt her back arch as if by someone else's doing, it was by someone else's doing, his doing – she felt like a woman inside of a body, so much in her body – " _fuck_ , so sweet," grunted against her, just the words sending her to another place, a place without diapers or mama or pumping or laundry – a place with dirty words and gorgeous and sexy and _sweet_ , he said she tasted _sweet_ , he was _tasting_ her – that tongue warm, firm, insistent, then, hitting her clit in quick, precise strokes – she was gasping, then, the " _Oh –_ mhm _,_ oh _yes,_ there…" coming from within her almost without her realizing – and he was groaning just a bit as he licked her – and he was hitting that perfect spot she'd almost forgotten _over and over and_ ––

"Han," she managed to choke out. "Han – mm, I want you…"

He laughed softly against her and she could feel it, the puff of breath, against every open raw piece of her, every place he'd kissed and sucked – "Y'got me, princess…"

"No, I want – I want you – in-in-inside me… _now,_ please..."

"But you didn't––"

" _Now,_ Han..."

He kept working her for just a moment more before kissing back up her body, smiling at her – a little uneasy, a little unsure… kissing her lips, firm, serious… hands all over her – "Don't have to – if you don't feel – ready…"

"I do want to – I – I just want it to – be like it was, I – please…" Squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her face to his neck, murmuring ever-so-softly despite her hang-ups because she knew how he got when she spoke – " _I miss how I feel when you're inside me."_

How she felt – _how I feel_ – like normal, like yours, like desirable, like a woman with a body, like a woman, like someone worth wanting––

And then he was – his fingers, anyway – finger, first, very slow, watching her face, how she jerked just a bit – "Mm – this okay?"

"Yes I – _yes_ ––"  
"Relax, baby..." Moving his finger, fingers, deeper, slow – "This okay?"

"Yes – quit _asking_ , just––"

"Mm – don't wanna hurt you––"

Her speech was more like breath, now. She could feel his fingers inside her – how did she feel, did she feel the same, did she feel different? "You won't…"

"Okay," he said, his voice sounding very low in his throat, like he was choking, like he wanted her – and then he was stripping off his boxers and kissing her hard and – fumbling? Fumbling in the drawer beside the bunk and––

"What––"

"S'lube, mm – _mm,_ gods Leia…" Saying _gods_ because she was stroking him, that was her doing that, she was making him make those sounds.

"Oh… oh, good…" She suddenly felt a little silly, shy again, tried to smile at him – spreading her legs wider, anxious but – "Good – thinking…"

The sound of it – the – lube, squicking, kind of – the least sexy thing she could imagine, really – but – she looked up at the ceiling, she didn't want – it felt too intimate, somehow, to see him – readying himself for her, to be inside her––

"Slow?" Her voice, opening her eyes, looking at him seriously – _please, please – relax, breathe…_ like a virgin, feeling like – a virgin, or whatever she was before him, something like a virgin, someone who needed – guidance, reassurance… _baby, you're such a baby, you're so immature, why are you so anxious, just take it––_

He smiled at her again. "Yeah, _gods_ – slow, 'course, love you…"

"I know, I – _ah!_ "

There he was – in – her, he was – just slightly, she could – feel herself, being – stretched, being – feeling different, feeling not quite––

 _Don't be a baby, just take it, don't disappoint him, don't complain––_

 _You love it don't you, you're made for it, hot little body, your tight pussy, you fucking love it, slut, you fucking––_

His face was – tight, jaw jerked up – and he still rubbed her forearms encouragingly. "Okay? This okay?"

She was rapidly spinning to somewhere else, some high, anxious, tightly-wound place but – "Mm – yes I – yes, keep…"

He pushed into her further, groaning into her shoulder, and she cried out again involuntarily – " _Hm_ – too much, too much––!" Exhaling heavily, her breathing hard and fast, body surging with _ow, ow_ – with _overwhelmed,_ with just – _too much_ – and then he was out of her, she could see the restraint on his face as he peppered the side of her face with kisses.

"Sorry, sorry, m'so sorry…"

"No… it's alright," she breathed. _I'm sorry, I'm the one who's sorry, I'm so sorry…_

"You wanna – we can – stop, we can stop…"

She inhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. "I don't want to stop."

"Okay. Okay." His breathing hard, too – "Let's do – here, you on top…" Rolling her over to be on top of him, to feel so – exposed, she felt so – exposed…

"Oh – I feel – mm, I feel so…" _Naked – but you are naked, you are naked, you––_

The whole expanse of her body lit up in blue over him, every flaw shining, exposed and marked up, the way he could look up and see all of her…

He was kissing her again, whatever he could reach. "You on top, more of this––" The lube, again, in her hands now, she could feel herself touching him but it was like she was a different person from the person with hands, "Find the right angle, mm…" His voice like a low, desirous groan, like loving her, like… "Fast or slow as you want."

"This is some _very_ high maintenance intercourse," she murmured, looking down at him, spreading her hands over his chest, trying not to tremble…

"You're worth it, gorgeous."

 _Fast or slow as you want. Find the right angle._ When she'd thought about having sex with him today it was something that he would do to her, something that she could – endure, that could happen – to her – not in any awful way, just in the way of – of her not having to – of her not having to, to…

Think about her body in those terms. Think about making her own pleasure, think about herself as someone who could make her own pleasure. As having to be the one, being the one to make her own pleasure. Her body as something for pleasure, pleasure she wanted, wanted to make…

Sex had never been easy between them, had always been about – finding the right angle, her sweet spots elusive, the inside of her body littered with dense scar tissue – and now it was _different_ , sore spots different, her body so––

She hovered over him carefully, biting down again on her lip. Yes, she wanted him – really wanted him – inside her, all over her, beneath her, everywhere, maybe he would be making her whole, that would be so…

And then he was inside her, very slow, she shifted to fix the angle, closing her eyes, concentrating – not there – not that – _there_ – she sunk down and she could hear him groaning, saying _Fuck,_ saying _Leia_ …

And she said, _Oh…_ pulled back up and sunk back down and said _Mm,_ said _Mm, mhm…_

"Mhm – _mm!_ "

His hands spread wide on her ass, his breath gasping – " _Shit––_ "

Whipping her hair back over her shoulders even though it meant more of her would be seen and picking up the pace just a bit, still careful...inside her, filling her, stretching her – like something else, like someone else, he felt like him and she felt like – some kind of Leia, a Leia she liked, she wanted to be always – and though she could feel herself leaking a bit she for once didn't collapse in anxiety – because this was her body…

"You…" Grinning at her, the sweat on his brow, the way she could see how he wanted her – "you feel so _fucking_ good…"

She gasped and took him deeper inside herself – _you feel so good, you feel good, your body, your body, inside you, he loves you, he wants you, he––_

Right _there_ , then, that good feeling, too much, it was too much – she couldn't – not that, she didn't want to, she couldn't – suddenly she felt afraid to – instead she shifted to avoid the sweetness of the spot, moved faster even though it pushed her limits then, small ripples of pain splintering through her, not unmanageable, maybe even a little pleasant, the soreness, something to hold onto, focus on – his fingers finding her clit, she moved them, too much, that was too much – when he touched her there she felt flooded with pleasure and pushed his fingers, the feeling, back, pushed the feeling back – too much, not enough control, she wanted – wanted control…

He was close, she could tell, from his face and his shut eyes and from the way his hips were moving up to meet hers, and she kissed him encouragingly, like _yes,_ like _please,_ like _let me give this to you…_

"Han," she breathed, smiling slightly at him, she loved him, she did – "Look at me?"

"Mm – not yet…"

"Please, look at me?"

"Not until you've––"

"I can't…" She moved faster even though it made her grimace just a bit – _please, I want to make you feel good, I want to feel normal_ –– "Please look at me. Please."

His voice was more hoarse breath, but he managed to choke out, "Yeah you can…"

"I can't, I don't want to... "

"Just – let go, just – love you, just––"

"Only if you look at me."

He opened his eyes and she moved hard and fast and then he was thrusting up into her quite hard, almost too hard and then he was there, holding tight to her, his tight face like evidence that she was desirable, that things were normal, and she kissed him everywhere she could reach and said she loved him until he was finished and then she was off of him, looking pleased with herself if a little shaky, her smile watery and on edge, he could see she was still burning, see she was still on edge…

"Lemme just… catch my breath…" he was saying, breathing hard, and she kissed his cheek and smiled the shaky smile and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "You – you're okay?"

"Mhm," she said lightly, even though she felt sore and off, exposed, and still edgy from the unconsummated desire still building in her belly…

"What'd ya –… mm, what'd ya mean when you – said you couldn't?" He was trying hard to move out of post-orgasmic haze, she could tell, his hands reaching out to stroke her back, trying to look at her seriously.

She shrugged lightly, looking away. "I just… it felt too… too much, I don't know…"

"Too sensitive, or…?"

"No like – inside me, like – ah, like – surrendering, or something, I don't…"

He almost understood. "Hmm… c'I try something?"

She shrugged again, pressing her face harder into his neck – they were on their sides, then, facing each other, and she was holding him impossibly tight, as if she could crawl into his skin and hide there, and surely he could feel her heart beating so fast, her breath hard and heavy…

He kissed the top of her head before settling his chin there and kept one hand firmly on her back, rubbing lightly, before moving his other between her legs, slowly, just slightly, and then he'd found her clit with just one finger and was rubbing impossibly slowly, his movements so slight and fine, and she was sighing heavily into his shoulder.

His voice low, by her ear... "How's that feel?"

His finger moving her in slow, gentle circles and she gasped again, whispering, " _Good_ …"

"Yeah?"

" _Yes…_ "

He kissed the top of her head again. "Good. Relax, princess."

His other hand massaging her spine lightly, his breath even and patient, his finger moving ever-so-slowly, so deliberately, each nimble movement eliciting a different sound from within her. _Relax, relax, breathe…_ She was close but she couldn't, whimpered into his shoulder in frustration, and he kissed her temple and told her something about as long as she needed, something about could touch her all night. He would want to touch her all night.

 _Relax, relax…_ It didn't feel so much like sex, pressed up against him like this, willing herself to breathe slow and lose herself in the slow, rhythmic movements between her legs, hugging him tight, her eyes closed, just feeling – what it felt like, to feel good… taking as long as she needed, breathing soft and slow, letting her breath escape her in gasps that made sounds, slow sounds... he said he could touch her all night, would want to touch her all night.

There was a particular spot he could rub that made her shiver and bite down on his shoulder and now he was coming to it again and again, faster now, more pressure, but when that _feeling_ came over her she bit it back…

He could tell, she knew, because he kissed her and said, "C'mon, sweetheart, just let it go…"

She sort of – shook her head stiffly, the feeling rising again, gasping – "I can't…"

His finger moving even faster now. "Yes you can, c'mon, love you, you can… s'okay…"

 _S'okay. It's okay. Love you. Yes you can. Let it go._

"Just – mm, let it feel good, that's it, it's alright…"

 _Let it feel good. It's alright. That's it. Let it, let it – feel good, feels good, let it, it's alright, love you…_

She shut her eyes and willed herself to relax, let go, allow herself to spin out, and when the feeling came again she sighed and said _okay_ and then she was crying out, she could hear herself, loud and emotional, her whole body shuddering, like a body, like her body, like she lived inside her body, something like bliss all over her, squeezing her tight and contracting and then letting her go, fly, further, further… leaving her quivering and warm and spent and feeling _good…_ so _good… that's it, that's it…_ the sound escaping her mouth something desperate and delighted and starving… she could feel him stroking her hair, murmuring something softly… as she came down from her high, she could hear it then – _that's right, love you, that's right, gods you're perfect._

She breathed hard and looked up at him, opening her eyes, and gave a breathless laugh. "Okay," she said, her voice still shaking. She felt stupid, she couldn't stop smiling, roughly brushing her hair away from her face, feeling breathless and sexy and spent. Feeling like herself, like Leia. "Wow I – _wow_..."

He grinned at her, then kissed her hard. "Good?"

"So good I – …" She couldn't find the right words, her mind too slippery, too spent – sleep too compelling – _uninterrupted_ sleep, at that... "I – I love you, I really do…"

"Good. I love you too."

XX.

"Please – _please_ stop, I'll do – n-n-n – _NO, NO – NOT HIM, PUT HIM––_ "

He jerked awake just in time to dodge a fist swinging dangerously close to his nose, her legs kicking spastically – "Hey – hey-hey-hey, it's okay, you're just dreaming, you're dreaming––" he whispered, setting one hand firmly on her shoulder – she jerked it _right_ off…

"PUT HIM DOWN, _please,_ please I'll do anything, _PLEASE––_ " She was full on thrashing then, her breath hissing out of her in shallow, hysterical gasps, her face red and clenched and wet – fists still swinging –

"Leia, come on now, wake up, you're safe––"

" _PLEASE, PLEASE_ ––"

" _Leia!_ "

And then she was awake and thrusting herself forward into sitting position, her eyes enormous and twitchy and red-rimmed, pinks and purples from earlier spotted all over her sweaty skin, clutching the sheet, hyperventilating hard – "They were – they were – _he was_ ––!"

His voice was bordering on frantic: "Hey-hey, touch or no? C'mon – touch or no?"

She managed to gasp out, " _Touch_ , touch––" and threw herself up against his chest just as his arms fell tightly around her, squeezing her tight, tighter, chin on top of her head, rocking – "They were – him, they were after – they _had_ him, they were––"

"Shhh… just a bad dream, wasn't real, wasn't real…"

"They – had, he was – they took – I c-c-couldn't––"

"Just a dream, you're safe, I swear, I swear––"

"They _had him_ – H-h-han… you have to––" She inhaled hard, fast––

"Listen to me, okay? Won't let _anything_ happen to him, okay? Ever, ever, ever––"

"It was just so _real_ ––" she choked out, and then all of the sudden she pitched forward with her eyes squeezed tight, hand flying up to her forehead, gasping out a small, " _Ah!"_

"Hey-hey – you gonna be sick? Hm? Let's get you to the 'fresher – you gonna be sick? Mm, c'mon..." He rubbed his eyes and moved to hoist her off the bed but she jerked away, hands hard on her temples.

" _Ah…_ "

His hand on her shoulder – "C'mon, Lei––"

But she jerked away again – " _Mm_ – the baby, _ah_ – L-l-l…"

And then, as if she'd summoned it – the sound of the comm in the other room.

Leia started to fumble blindly, her hand still on her temple, eyes still mostly shut, hunched, while Han kept asking, "What's wrong, talk to me––"

"Nothing, it's – nothing, I… the comm..." She stood up and stumbled into the lounge, trying to follow the sound, still clutching her head, and he threw on his underwear before following after her…

"Leave it, sweetheart – come back to bed."

"No, I…" She found the comm, then, clicked it on, her hoarse, pained voice croaking out, "Luke?"

The minute she answered he could hear the baby on the other end, screaming – _screaming_ , in a way he'd only heard a few times, like he was angry, scared, something so desperate about it. And Luke's voice: "Hey – you have a nightmare?"

She was rubbing her eyes, and he stood by helplessly. "Mm… mhm… bad one… baby okay…?"

Luke was struggling to be heard over the shrieking. "Yeah, I could tell – he's okay, I think he's just – scared, he clearly felt – some of what you felt…"

Leia groaned and buried her face in her hands and he sat down beside her and rubbed her back, tense and mystified.

"I've tried everything but he's just – your connection, I think he's scared for you or else, scared in the same way as you? I don't really…"

"Should I come home? I can come home…"

"No, I don't think that'll – what I mean is, as long as you're still – on edge, I think it'll still…"

"Right," she said, her voice tired and desperate.

"Can you try to relax for me? Try meditating a little?"

"Mm… sure I shouldn't come home… I need to – can help him..."

"I really think until you're not so – frightened – that it'll do more harm than good – Leia, I had no idea the connection was this level of––"

"It's not normally––" _But it was…_

The sound of the baby screaming was too much for her, he could tell, her hands flying almost to her ears, the way she looked like she hated herself.

Luke cleared his throat. "I saw some – pills, in the bathroom, sleeping pills – do you normally…?"

Here he jerked up. "Pills? What pills?"

"They help a bit, yes," she said into the comm, ignoring him. "I didn't have any with me to take tonight, so maybe that's why…"

"How many do you normally––?"

"However many I need," she said dismissively, still weary, still shaking from the sound of the baby…

"What's he talking about, pills? Leia?"

"Just for – sleep, it's nothing, Han, it's just…"

"Since when?"

She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Since I stopped having nightmares…"

"That's – oh." _That's why. Nothing you did, to make her feel better, safer, nothing you did…_

"Leia?" Luke's voice on the comm again, tired but serious. "Need you to calm yourself down, okay? Get nice and calm – maybe have a drink or take – any kind of sedative, honestly, and then call back and you can reach out to him, alright? But not before, okay?"

"Mm… alright…" Her voice more of a mumble, and she clicked off without another word.

"Where'd you get pills?"

"Nowhere… Han, I need to relax now, okay?"

"We're not done here yet––"

"For the baby, Han, _please_ …"

He suspected it had just as much to do with avoiding the conversation, but _fine, fine_ … "Do you want tea or something? A drink?" he asked, his voice too stiff, too unnatural. _Not giving her a fucking sedative, fucking hell, especially not if she's taking – pills? Since when has she had any interest in – since when…?_

She shook her head and instead sat down in the lounge, still wholly naked, and closed her eyes lightly. He stared at her. She looked like she was concentrating. Concentrating on what? Pills – what? Nightmares – medicating them away – and was that safe, with the baby and all? Pills in her system – when did she – what doctor would – why didn't she tell him? Why'd she let him think they'd conquered this together? Let him feel so stupidly optimistic? He watched her for a long while, as calm gradually washed over her features – normally he'd give her her privacy, not stare, but now he didn't care. Stared anyway. Her and the baby – waking up and screaming so far away when she did. So tied to her. She was so wrapped up in him. Inseparable – where did he fit, where did he…

"Call Luke back," she said slowly, eyes still shut. "See if he's – he must be…"

"Alright." He yawned and rubbed his eyes and did so. Baby was still screaming, in the background… "Hey. She said to call."

"Tell her to go ahead and reach out."

This fucking Force shit, hell… "He says to 'go ahead and reach out,'" he told her tiredly.

She nodded, eyes still shut, and he stared at her, and he watched her face relax further, then very slowly break into a soft smile – her lips moving soundlessly, her expression captivated, her eyes still closed. Tried to read her lips, some luck – something like _Mama,_ something like _love you,_ something like _safe._ Private, not meant for his consumption.

And on the other end of the line, the baby had quieted, some kind of magic.

"All good?" Han asked tersely.

"All good. He's out," Luke replied. "Sorry, guys. Good night."

"'Night." He clicked off. Glanced over at her – she was out, too, slumped over and snoring lightly, tiny bit of drool on the corner of her mouth. Marked up and pale. Spent.

Unreadable. He thought he could always read her, he thought he knew everything about her, he thought…

He set his jaw and scooped her up, carrying her to bed and crawling in beside her, her weight against him like something foreign. Tried in vain to sleep, stared at her as she did. _I know you, it's me, I know you._ He watched her lips twitch into a small smile in sleep – some private dream, some private pleasure, one he'd never know about. From some other place, without him.

#

 _Your comments on this chapter more than any other would be so appreciated – I really have never written anything like this so I'd love to know if it worked for you. Again, never too late to start leaving comments!_


	10. 9: Bodies

_This chapter is very delayed. It ws also incredibly difficult to write, because so much comes to a head… for those of you following along, I'd love to hear your take._

9: Bodies

It'd been awhile since he'd seen her like this: lying beside him naked and languid, stretched out with her arms over her head, back arched, wearing the contented little eyes-closed smile she got after a particularly good go around. Relaxed and sated, all that smooth, creamy skin marked up in pinks and purples, courtesy of his – enthusiasm, last night and then this morning. It'd been even _longer_ since he'd been woken up by her mouth on him, relentless and purposeful, warm and wet and appealing, long enough that he'd been certain he was dreaming, had almost shouted when he realized he wasn't, but there she was, his princess, determined and sexy and wanting him. Not an act, either – no exaggerated parody of seductiveness or wantonness. Her eyes not winking or teasing when caught. Just flicking suddenly to look up at him meaningfully and positively _smoldering_. He almost lost it then and there.

Almost lost it then and there but kept it together long enough for another go this early morning, this time slow and deep and passionate, her tender body, how she was moving, fuck, these deep, slow rolls of her hips as if she were coming back into her own skin, stretching awake from an impossibly long nap… Now she was lying there all blissed out like a vision of resplendent gorgeousness, like she wasn't thinking of anything else, and he was lying beside her, but he was thinking about nightmares, and her crying jags, and pills.

So yeah, he hadn't slept so well, after that little middle-of-the-night episode. Almost barely, actually, even though she seemed to have mostly been out like a rock, which was fine – she never slept, normally, between the baby and everything else, so it was only fair. And he did fall asleep long enough to get woken up something like perfectly. But that also meant that when she sighed deeply and murmured, "It's been a long time since I've felt this good," it took him a moment to respond, his mind somewhere else, somewhere grim and tense and where she would probably be angry were she to find him lingering there.

When he had been asleep: something like a dream, not quite a memory, somewhere between a memory and a nightmare. Like a memory on high, turned all the way up, the colors too bright. His fitfully sleeping mind whipped back to some fifteen minutes after Ben was born, when it was suddenly clear that she was really not okay – when he'd been rushed out, when she was unconscious, he could still see that one arm, her right arm, dangling over the side of the bed, head to the side, mouth open, legs still splayed wide, the last view he got of her before they hustled him out.

Feeling the blood rushing in his ears and shouting at the medic, _the fuck is happening? The fuck is going on?,_ his voice more of a desperate bellow, _the fuck you doin' to her?_ His chest pounding, his heart feeling like it had been squeezed, stomped on, _Leia-leia-leia-leia_ , and in his arms this teeny-tiny fifteen-minute-old baby, his _son_ , wrapped tight in this pink blanket Leia had selected, the yellow cap, _wailing_ – red and _screeching_ – awkwardly trying to bounce him, rub his back, motions of what he thought soothing him looked like – feeling clumsy and wrong, his son, his son, Leia's son… in the nightmare she wasn't behind a curtain, right it had been a curtain, curtained off in this military med center, all around them soldiers rushing with blaster wounds while they enthused _push_ and she cried out and flickered in and out of waking – instead he could see her, her head dangling, her eyes wide and unseeing yet appearing to stare straight at him, something like the way the dead looked… the baby screaming.

Luke's low voice: _Han, let me take him – Han, give him to me_ and he did so harshly, no gentleness at all, thinking as Luke took Ben a few feet away to try to calm him, _how're you not yelling with me, how can you just hold a baby and let her die, where's your fucking loyalty, get your priorities in order!_ Luke murmuring _I think he can feel her_ while he felt like screaming _what if there's no her to speak of, asshole, what about that?_ Throwing his arms out and shouting wildly in the center of medical _I'll put a fuckin' blaster bolt in my head if she don't make it, I swear to gods, I'll kill myself tomorrow_ , _I'll do it!_ In the nightmare he could see that eye staring at him, Leia, dying, Leia, dead… the baby, screaming, being so unable to soothe him...

Didn't reply until she rolled onto her side to look right at him and touched his cheek and smiled at him, quipped lightly, "If I'd known all it took was a good lay to get me to feel like myself…"

"This is what 'yourself' feels like, huh? Spread out in some scoundrel's bed..."

"Mm… _my_ scoundrel," she said, and she kissed him and he let her kiss him for a moment before pulling back, brushing back some of her hair, sitting up.

"How're you feelin' this morning?" he asked, trying to be casual.

He sort of had meant in regards to what he felt like was a pretty insane series of events the night before, the baby and the Force and the kid and – pills, some pills, but instead she frowned thoughtfully and said, stretching out again luxuriously, all softness, all princess, all his, "I suppose I'm sore, but I don't mind it…"

He made a low, desirous sound in his throat and she grinned, eyes shut – pleased with herself, she looked so damn – proud of herself, as if she aced a test, cleared a hurdle, maybe he was being cynical, he was being cynical…

"Mm… my breasts feel like they're fit to burst, though… we should get home soon…"

She caught him giving what he hoped was an appropriately sympathetic nod – still had no frame of reference for what she wanted from him when she said things like that, same as with her cycle, figured _uh-huh, I bet,_ and getting her whatever she wanted worked fine, and it mostly had – and she laughed, sitting up too, her hair swung over her shoulders and hanging in messy, sexy knots down her back, her eyes lit up. "When we met, however many years ago, I'd wager you couldn't have imagined hearing those words in your bed?"

"Imagined the sore part, maybe," he growled, and she laughed and kissed him again, murmuring against his lips something about _you make me feel so much like myself, when I'm with you._ "S'that, princess?"

"I said, you make me feel like _myself_. When I'm with you… and I haven't felt so much like myself in so long."

He frowned and rubbed her back as she rested her chin on his shoulder, said nothing for a while, then checked the chrono and muttered, "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

She nodded and kissed his shoulder, then started pulling on her things and braiding her hair. As they were dressing, though, she paused, looking at him thoughtfully. "Han – about last night…"

He looked at her a bit warily, preparing himself for the inevitable blow-up about her misleading him on the nightmare situation. "Yeah?"

"The way you – handled me. With so much… patience, and compassion." Ah, so not the nightmare then – she meant in bed. Sure, alright. He'd take it. She was looking at him seriously, her features soft and loving. "Well. I just – I love you for it."

"Wouldn't dream of handlin' you any other way," he said easily, brushing the moment off and pulling on his socks, then boots.

"You're too good for me," she said, shaking her head and smiling affectionately as she finished dressing. "Well? Do I look alright?"

"Y'look like you're walking back home in the morning in the same clothes you wore yesterday," he observed. "Other than that I'd say alright."

"Charming."

"Least you're not walking alone."

"Mm. Small blessings."

He jerked in mock-offense. " _Small_ , Your Worship?"

"You're right, not small, I stand corrected," she said, fixing her boot and turning to leave. "Would that I was right, though – smaller might be easier on me." And then she was off, spine straight, chin tilted up, shoulders back, gait purposeful and smirking, taking no prisoners. "I might not be so sore…"

XX.

They scanned into their unit and then she was mommy again, or rather _Mama_ – there was Luke, on the floor beside the baby on his play mat, scooping up the baby into his lap and pointing to them, or, more accurately, her, and enthusing in a sweetened, saccharine baby voice, "Who's that? Who's that, Ben? Is that your Mama? Is that your Mama?"

She immediately squatted down, beaming, and cooed, "I missed you! Hi 'loved! Did you miss me? I missed you!"

And the baby did his recent trick of giving a babbling, open-mouthed laugh, smiling so wide at her, even this little Ben could easily pick her out, and she was smiling at him back, laughing, going over and scooping him off of Luke's lap and kissing him once, twice, three times – "Oh, I missed you, I missed you _very_ much… did you miss us? Did you miss your da and me? But I'm sure your uncle took very good care of you…"

"Other than the blip last night, he was perfect." Luke then, up to his feet, smiling warmly at her – her smiling back at him affectionately – all smiles, this group, Han thought a bit sourly. Grinning at each other as if their last interaction hadn't been trying to rectify the damage done by torture-trauma (courtesy of bio-dad) Force-reverberating between mother and infant son last night. Perfectly in sync in their delusions of normalcy – now he was really getting sour – wasn't blip just the understatement of the millennium – they deserved each other – too sour…

"Mm, I'm sure… very perfect, I know, I know. When was the last time he ate?"

"I was actually just going to get him a bottle––"

"Oh, that's perfect." To the baby, then, her voice sweetened, "That's so very perfect/ I'm going to go nurse him, then – please do stay for kaffe if you want to, you're always welcome…" Bouncing the baby and saying playfully, "Say buh-bye to your uncle, precious – say buh-bye, buh-bye."

"Buh-bye, cutie," Luke said, tapping his nose, and Ben giggled and cooed, and Leia was smiling affectionately and bouncing the baby and looking like a mother, like someone who wanted to be a mother, and could it really be so easy, then, take her to bed and suddenly she was this light, funny, clever girl who loved her life and felt so comfortable teasing the baby with peekaboo until he was positively _shrieking…_ could it really––?

But it hadn't been about taking her to bed, he knew – it had been about treating her with care and affection, making her feel good and normal, right. Which wasn't easy. Which meant this could be real, she wasn't playing pretend, she wasn't… it _could_ be this easy…

But then again – _pills…_? Suddenly his chest felt tight, his face hot – pills, Leia, pills, Leia…

Leia kissed her brother's cheek and slipped into the baby's room with Ben. Luke sort of smiled after them, saying warmly, "She seems really good – did you guys have fun last night?"

"Yeah," he snapped dismissively, "we got real – re-acquainted – listen, what's that you were saying last night, about pills? You found pills?"

Luke looked taken aback at the sudden tone shift: "Yeah I – in the 'fresher cabinet, I didn't think it was necessarily anything _bad_ though."

But by then Han had already strode into the 'fresher and practically torn the door off the cabinet, tearing through it. He found the bottle and frowned again, shaking it in frustration. "Get me a datapad or somethin', will ya?"

"Han, listen, I'm sure you have no reason to worry––"

"Here – look this up – luxap… well here, just read the label."

Luke took the bottle and looked it up, frowning. "It's just a sleeping pill – it's for occasional insomnia."

"She doesn't have insomnia," he practically growled, "she has trauma and it gives her nightmares – give me that – what does it say, about – babies, whatever, breastfeeding––?"

"Yeah, nightmares make it so she has trouble _sleeping_ – you have no reason not to trust her, you––"

"Just _give_ it to me." He snatched the datapad away and scanned it, setting his jaw, the text blurring on the screen. His voice was gruff, flat: "Thanks – thanks for watching Ben. Alright? Had a good time last night, thanks for the party."

"Hey, Han, listen, for what it's worth – I – miss you. Our friendship, I mean. I feel like – feel like it's been awhile."

"Now's not a good time, kid."

"I just meant that you can talk to me, like we used to––"

"Why don't you just keep your focus on your own issues right now, alright?" he said sharply.

Luke shook his head, his face like a bitter angry laugh. "I wish I could! You think I've wanted to be tending to your _marriage_ for months?" He shook his head again, leaving the cramped 'fresher and heading for the door. "Sometimes can you be so selfish."

"Selfish!" Han practically shouted after him, disbelieving – " _Selfish!_ " – but Luke was already out the door. The irony of hearing the baby start to wail in response to the noise was not lost on him; he could hear, too, Leia's voice, muffled, a series of low, comforting murmurs. He felt his stomach twist into knots and slipped the slim vial into his pocket, his hand trembling. _Selfish? Selfish? Tending to his_ marriage _?_

He headed towards Ben's tiny bedroom, careful to open the door slow as the crying was beginning to taper off. Leia was on the chair, the dirty turtleneck on the floor, a standard-issue blanket from military supply around her shoulders, her hair undone and hanging like a crimped curtain over her face. Holding the baby tight against her marked-up skin, frowning, murmuring to him in a series of _sh-sh-sh_. She looked up, saw him, and frowned again, but it was gentle, soft, like the baby stirring a bit was the only thing she had to frown about.

Pills… selfish… Leia… _I'll put a fuckin' blaster bolt in my head if she don't make it_ … _I think he can feel her…_ tending, tending…

He mouthed an apology and leaned in the doorway, lingering there, cocking his head. Feeling himself grow softer, less tense, even as he fiddled with the pills in his pocket. Watching her frown and fuss like herself, like Leia, her face gently concerned, shifting the baby back to her breast, smoothing his hair, brushing her fingers by his mouth – he'd seen her do this before, sort of linger where they came together. His teeny hand holding to her breast.

Watching her watch their baby, her gaze steady on his dark eyes as he looked up at her, searching. And always finding whatever it was he was looking for, there, in her face – comfort, warmth, security. Something like what Han's few memories of his mother felt like. And letting his little eyes flutter shut. Sweeter than sweet

He watched, too, her expression as she considered him: concern, seriousness, dedication. Petting his hair 'til it was smoother than smooth. He watched a shiver pass over her, how she shrugged deeper into the blanket before letting her head fall back a bit so it rested against the chair, her chin up, her neck elongated and white and marked, her eyes slowly coming shut. Rare repose, the two of them resting, _I think he can feel her_ , they were like a closed circuit.

Closed circuit. That day, pacing and panicking and having punched a curtain, having comm'd Chewie only to just gasp wordlessly, unable to say anything, his voice a rattling nothing – and every time a medic tried to talk to him, he'd be unable to hear, because the baby _would not stop screaming_ , a high-pitched hysterical shriek until Leia was stable and then suddenly, as if he screamed himself out, he was asleep in Luke's arms. Luke's 'cause his own hands were too busy punching curtains, wringing themselves, yanking through his hair. Leia's son. Leia all spread out and slick with sweat and gasping to him in a husky, delirious, ecstatic laugh, _oh, Ben! Han he's – Ben, Ben…_

The inside of her head was a place he couldn't breach. Was a place her son could reach, her brother, the ones who saw her nightmares. He watched her take a few moments to breathe easy with her eyes closed, rocking the two of them gently, then flick her eyes open to look at him. "Are you ever going to come in?" she breathed, raising her eyebrows. "Or are you just going to linger?"

He fiddled with the vial in his pocket and shuffled into the room, frowning a bit and going to her to adjust her blanket. "Thank you," she said softly, looking up at him, puzzled but pleased. _When we met, however many years ago, I'd wager you couldn't have imagined…_ "He's very sweet…"

He gave her a half smile of agreement as she nudged the tip of finger against one of the baby's little fists, stroking it gently. He fidgeted with the vial again. _Leia-leia-leia…_ "Was there something you needed?" she murmured, not looking up and rocking herself lightly again. "Early, was that – were you fighting with my brother?"

"Not really fighting," he muttered, leaning against the changing table and looking at her, closed circuit.

"It sounded heated…"

"Was nothin'. Just the kid being himself."

"Hmm…" she murmured, but she let it lie and instead ducked her head to kiss Ben's forehead, everything about her implying _privacy, please…_ off in her own little world, their own little world.

Instead he lingered, hands in his pockets, looking at her, at them. He could hear it, vividly then, as though it were happening before him: _oh, Ben! Han he's – Ben, Ben…_ Laughing and gasping, coughing, sputtering, he remembered kissing her over and over… gasps into coughs into shallow breaths that slowed and slowed… _oh, Ben! Han he's… p-perf––… H-han…_

"Han?"

He grunted, startled slightly. "Mm?"

"Can you pass me that cloth over there?"

He looked at it – it was a grey rag, probably the type that'd been used to clean blasters or other equipment before being repurposed to catch spit-up – and handed it to her. Watched her neatly rest it on her bare shoulder and burp the baby, her movements so nimble and fine and expert-like, fingers that used to pull triggers faster than any woman he'd known and before that handle sugar cubes, mountain snow, tea services. Quickly able to be retaught, repurposed, Leia who'd lived so many lives at twenty-four. Smiling a little at the small sounds Ben made, rubbing his back, kissing him, whispering in Alderaanian. Asking him, "Is there something you needed, love?"

He frowned, considering. "Kinda but – can wait."

She pressed her lips together but nodded as she situated Ben at her other side. "I suppose you're just keeping me company then?"

He did his best to give her a crooked smile. "What can I say? I like bein' around you."

"The evidence would indeed indicate as much," she murmured, snorting a bit as she looked down at the baby and, in turn, her skin.

"Sorry if I was a bit… overzealous."

"No-o," she said lightly, touching Ben's eyelids, his nose. "Like I said – you were wonderful." She seemed lost in thought, her voice taking on that ethereal quality that always made her seem like someone from another realm than him, some goddess creature who was gracing the world with a gorgeous vision of a princess in white – someone from a dream. "I love making love to you now because it reminds me how something so wonderful can lead to something so wonderful… I really do love you, Han. I know I'm not always easy but I really, I really do love you. Very much."

 _Yep, that's it, I'm not fucking this up,_ Han thought as warmth flushed over him, _who cares about pills, I'm not doing anything to risk this, never, never, never_ and he withdrew his hand from his pocket to touch her hair, beginning to say, "Love you too…"

She frowned quizzically, though, looking up at him. "What's that you've got?"

"Hmm? Nothin'."

"In your pocket – what is it, Han?" she asked again, her voice playful.

"Wha? Oh, just a bit of scrap from the Falcon, s'nothing…"

"You're being awfully defensive about nothing…" she teased. "What're you hiding, flyboy?"

"Nothin', princess, it's really…" And there was her hand, reaching out and tracing the outline of the vial, her face growing confused, then stony. "Nothing."

"Were you going through my things?" she asked softly, still sounding a bit puzzled. Ben whimpered slightly, and she readjusted him, soothing in a low voice as she settled back into the chair, her face beginning to flush with annoyance.

"Not me – Luke."

"But my things are in _your_ pocket, not Luke's," she observed, eyes on Ben, posture rigid.

"'Things,'" he echoed a bit sarcastically, fishing the bottle out and looking at the label again. "Where'd you get these, Lei?"

"From a medic," she said simply, before pivoting back. "Why are they in your pocket?"

"They're for insomnia. You don't have insomnia."

"Oh, you looked them up, lovely – I do have trouble sleeping through the night, and that's what I told the medic. Why do you _have_ them?"

"Luke found 'em last night and asked you over comm when Ben was freaking out – you don't remember? And then I asked him to show me, so."

"And then you _confiscated_ them?"

"Just wanted to look 'em up."

" _Why_?"

"Why are you takin' some random medication without telling me?"

"You're the keeper of my body, then?" she snapped, her voice growing cold, mean.

"Said the nightmares stopped."

"They did stop."

"Yeah, because you're sedating yourself every night – you know this shit is _murder_ on your liver if you take it daily, right? You know that? Your doctor know that? An' that it's not – recommended or whatever for new moms––"

"Han," she said tightly, "you're being very controlling right now and I don't appreciate it."

"You _told me_ they _stopped_."

"Yes, because _I_ _stopped them_ ," she snapped loudly, and Ben let out an anxious cry. "Oh, sh-sh-sh, it's okay, it's okay… you're okay, precious, you're okay…" Holding him close to her and stroking his hair, his back. "Your da is just being unnecessarily paternalistic but it's okay, we're okay––"

" _Kriff!"_

"I don't understand you," she said, curling into herself as she bounced the baby. "We were having such a lovely go of it – why would you bring this up now?"

"'Cause it freaks me out that you're lying to me."

"I am not _lying_!"

"Yeah you are, you're lying by – by omission – you're _knocking yourself out_ nightly, fuck – an' I won't have that again, I won't."

" _Again?_ When have I _ever_ lied to you?" she demanded, then twisted in the chair – "Do you see his paci, I can't––"

He swept his eyes over the tiny room, shook his head roughly. "How about a month ago when you were tellin' me you were fine but weeping in the shower about feelin' like – what, a person without a body?"

"That's not _lying_ , Han, that's _trying_ – that's being _married_ , it's––"

"S'not us being married, that's not our marriage, alright, that's not––"

"And we both know you're not thick enough to have really thoughtI was fine – and if you did I don't even know what to – do you _really_ not see his _pacifier_?" She was up, then, the blanket falling to the floor, topless and with her hair a ratty unwashed nest swirling around her, clutching the baby as she pushed past him to dig through Ben's things before producing the pacifier, giving it to the baby, and leaning heavily against the changing table, her breath labored. "I don't know why you're doing this to me."

"I can't have it again, alright?" he was saying, his voice tight and unrelenting. "You saying you're okay when you aren't? Not an option."

"Well the first thing you have to do is stop deluding yourself into thinking I'm always going to be happy just because we've finished bickering-as-flirting and we're some approximation of a heteronormative fantasy of 'settled' – you never expected that of me before and I don't know why you need it now – I am still the same young woman who earnestly, genuinely _struggles_ with feeling anything other than self-loathing maybe half the time, for whom sex is a _struggle_ – I've been this way as long as you've known me, you can't act so surprised."

"Sure, whatever, but it's _different_ now, because––"

"I know, I know, everything is different now because of the baby, our baby – that's _why_ I wanted to deal with the nightmares, I… that was the _point_ … It's _medicine_ , Han..."

"S'not just medicine, princess – you've got a secret lethal stash of sedatives an' I'm just supposed to take that lying down?"

" _Lethal?"_

He shrugged harshly. "You're so – sometimes you seem so _–_ I can't – _lose_ you, I – know what that feels like and I can't, I can't––"

" _Lose_ me?"

He gave her a helpless look and she held tightly to Ben, shaking. "I would never – _Han_! I would never… how could you..."

"Medicine – Kriff, fuck – _medicine_ …"

"Those nightmares – if he can see them? If anyone could – Han, if I – I would rather die than see my father and mother tortured, my auntie's hand cut off – I would rather die, my mother, my _mother_ – I'd rather die a thousand times than see her––…" She cut herself off and looked down, then back up, mouthed _raped_ as if the baby could hear her. "I'd rather die. I would rather _die…_ "

He tried not to think, _see, this is why the idea of you with a vial full of strong sedatives scares the crap out of me_ and touched her shoulder. "Hey. Sweetheart, just – take it easy, alright?"

"My mother… I miss her every day, you know – more and more each day, I wish I could explain it. I feel it more and more with every – every passing milestone, every time I look at him, I…" Her hands were quivering around the baby and she looked – far off, unhinged, anxious.

"Here, lemme…" He took Ben from her, bounced him a little, held her arm to steady it.

"I – I'm sorry, I… I can't let him see, I..."

"I know."

"I didn't used to be like this. Hysterical like this, so – emotional, I – … Han, I'll never leave you, I…"

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Just take it easy."

"I was feeling fine today, for once I felt so _normal_ – why did it have to…"

"I uh…" He looked down at Ben, sighing. "I didn't realize you were thinkin' about your mom so much."

She laughed a little. "Oh Han – every time his soiled diaper seems different or he fusses too long I feel desperate to call her, just desperate – when he was sniffling – and then in the med center I felt so…"

"Yeah."

"Every time I feel out of control, I need her."

"I know."

"It's so funny, I thought – I thought, other women, they have unplanned pregnancies – Alderaanian women, now, young female refugees, who think marriage is the only way out of – _crippling_ poverty, they have these babies so young so that someone will save them from their refugee camp and they're bound into _servitude_ , Han – but mine would be a choice. I thought _I deserve this_ – the Rebellion owes me this – why not me. Why can't I be happy. Why can't I do something so outrageous as marry my lover and have his child and be happy, why not Princess Leia, haven't I given enough? But it doesn't matter because everyone would still look at you and see _knocked up_ – would still not take you seriously – it's like with nursing, it's…"

"Lei, just––"

"It doesn't matter if it was something I _wanted_ to do – something I planned. I thought, I'm going to bring my baby back to work and if that means nursing in a diplomatic meeting so be it, I'm in control, I'm not in control, when I have to wake up at four in the morning I am not in control, when pumping makes me feel like I'm facing a torture droid I am not in control – at the med center, when you had to – when I was half-conscious, when… I was not in control..."

"I felt that way too."

"You."

"In the med center. I felt it too."

"What…?"

"When you were – out, I felt it too. Just like. Helpless." _Helpless about you being helpless. Vulnerable about you being vulnerable._

"Oh Han…"

"That's why I – s'why – pills made me so. Just. Almost – lost you, I…"

"Yes," she said, pressing her lips together. "Yes I… I felt very… very alone." Looking up at him through her lashes, almost desperate. "Did you – did you also feel very alone?"

"When he was born?"

"Yes."

"... yeah. Yeah, I felt that."

Not when he was born so much as the hours after. Leia, looking slick and small, hooked up to so many machines, stuck with so many needles, wandering in and out of consciousness… sitting in a chair by her bedside and holding the baby, his grip tight and tense, staring down at him with a set, stiff jaw. His chest a tight, unrelenting knot. Unseeing. Leia's baby, his baby, Leia's baby. Leia's son. _Congratulations, Mr. Solo. You have a son._ Not really, not yet, not actually. Leia had a son. Leia on the bed, Leia in the delivery room, having cried out vaguely and started to gasp, then seized, and then lost consciousness. Leia's son.

And then, as if picking up on his anxiety – the baby's face turning red, twisting – his lips coming together as if to suck. Keening, such a small sound. He tried clumsily to soothe him, patting his back awkwardly. Mumbling _s'okay, s'okay, got ya, your dad's got ya._ Feeling so alone.

And still Ben fussed, so he tiredly hit the intercom. "Think he's hungry again, if we could get someone in here," he mumbled into it, trying again to bounce the teeny tiny bundle. On her cot, Leia twisted, making small, faintly distressed sounds as she did so. He could read her well: watching the stress of some dream flicker through her features, cause her to wriggle, then the wriggle making her wince. They'd had her doped up enough to practically immobilize her the first few hours, so she wouldn't pull at her stitches in sleep, maybe he could get her more of that. Maybe he could pull that small thing off.

"Hi there – oh, how are we doing in here?" The nurse, aid, whatever, then, the one who'd been especially thoughtful to them, whose concern seemed serious but not condescending – who wore her greying hair sort of like Leia's, in a web of braids over the crown of her head, who'd been mostly looking after Ben, when it came down to it – changing him, bringing him bottles, fixing his swaddled blanket, a set-up he still couldn't get right.

"Fussy. Think he's hungry," he grunted, looking away.

"Mhm, that seems right – here, here-here-here, there we go…" She reached out and took the baby from him, patting his back rhythmically and giving his little face a sympathetic look. "Has Mam been up recently?"

"S'been mostly in and out." His voice sounded hoarse, all wrong.

"Sure, sure – I thought it might be a good time to for her to try feeding him again…" The nurse popped her finger into Ben's mouth easily, letting him suck, and went over to Leia's bedside. Didn't hesitate before stroking her hair: "Princess…"

And then, Leia's voice, garbled but still faintly recognizable. "Mm… Mama…?"

"Princess, are you awake?"

"Hmm…?" Her voice more of a sigh. "Oui-i… mm… missed tu, Mam…"

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired… Mama je – mm – I had – baby… ou est mon..."

"You did have a baby. He's right here, Your Highness. See? He's right here, he's doing just fine, just a little hungry."

"Oh… hi, swee'ness. Mm..." Ben whimpered again, and she frowned sleepily, groping towards him clumsily. Her body pale and deflated and tangled in wires, she looked – grotesque, her arms all marked up from where they'd struggled to find a large enough vein, she looked – like something alien, another body, someone else's Princess Leia, not his… "No-o… don't – mm... Ben-ben…"

He looked away. He wanted to be sick.

The aid took it in stride. "He's just getting a little antsy – would you like to try feeding him again? You won't have to do a thing, we'll make it nice and easy for you."

He could hear her make some kind of affirmative mumble, maybe in Alderaanian, then murmur another, "Mama… j'had a _baby_ …" _Fuck_. He grimaced again.

"Yes, you did, I know you did," the nurse said simply, patting Leia's arm. "Da, come on over here on Mam's other side – let's just elevate the head of the bed…"

He felt his legs move to bring him there even those his expression was still flat. _Da, Mam…_ Alderaanian variations on what they'd both been called in the med center leading up to the delivery, before things went south – like they could be anyone, what had Leia said to him? _Well, you better get used to it, hotshot. Sorry – Da._ "Alright, Lei, up ya go."

She sort of settled back into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and tossing her head to the side as they propped her up. "Da, I think our best bet would be if you go ahead and sit right there beside her on the bed…"

He settled in next to her uncomfortably, arm tight around her shoulders – she leaned on him heavily and he felt his chest constrict.

"Are you alright there, princess?"

Her face against his neck… "Ye-es…"

"Good, I'm glad – you go on and just relax there. Da, if you want to help her with her robe, and then I'll hand you the baby…"

He couldn't remember the last time he'd touched her in a way that was so intimate. Anyone in a way that was so intimate. He couldn't look at her eyes as he delicately opened the front of her shirt, which was fine because her eyes were closed, her expression a little pained, some far-off awake part of her still shy... Leia, Leia, Leia…

 _Fuck_ , Leia, _fuck_ – panting and crying out to him, all slick with sweat and effort, _I can't, Han, I can't do it, I can't!_

 _Yeah you can, princess––_

 _I can't, I can't do it anymore, I really can't, please can you do it for me…_

 _Yes you can, c'mon now – push––!_

Fuck, Leia – severe, strict General Organa, hair perfect, rigid, her tight limber body even when pregnant, who never complained, who wore heeled combat boots into her third semester and was always wry and restrained… now he had his fingers on her nipple, Kriff, fuck, General Leia Organa, while she was mumbling and wriggling against him, and his face was expressionless and he was feeling something like revulsion every time he looked at her, saw what – had happened to her. Thinking _man the fuck up and help her, comfort her, Kriff_ – another Han who stroked her hair and murmured soothingly as opposed to setting his jaw as he helped her to hold the baby to her breast. Or rather as he did it for her while her head flopped against him. Fuck. _Fuck. FUCK._

"You're from where she's from." His voice tired, detached.

"I was, yes."

"Thanks for. Lookin' after her and all. Appreciate that."

"Of course. For Princess – I mean. Of _course_."

"You knew her? Before, I mean."

"Oh goodness, hardly. But my younger daughter was very obsessed with her, growing up – she used to play pretend as her." She shook her head, smiling faintly. "If she knew I were looking after her baby…"

"Always forget the whole famous part of the princess thing."

"I always got the sense that she was very kind in person. Her parents were – very loved. Very."

"Yeah, well. By her, too."

"Of course. I wish I could say I could only imagine, but…"

"Just the one daughter or?"

"Two. Three, really – two daughters and then my older daughter's wife… it's funny, they were trying to have a baby right when – well."

"Ah. Understood."

"I can imagine what you're thinking, but that's just what grief does. Permits improbable substitutions. Makes them necessary… but of course it never quite works, does it… I'm going to go grab a hairbrush for her, it seems like you're doing alright here for now."

"Yeah." Holding her tight. "We're alright."

And then, Leia's arm, sort of flailing awkwardly towards the door. "Mam, ou...?"

"I'll be back, princess. Just a moment. Your husband's got you."

"Mmhmm… bring Daddy…?"

"Yes, princess, I'll bring your da."

 _Yes, princess. I'll bring your da._ He'd never be able to bring her her dad. He'd never felt so acutely the need to bring her anything, to do anything for her…

Back in the present, Leia was looking up at him and saying, "My body wasn't my body. When he was born – afterwards, I – I thought I'd be able to control it, somehow, I thought – my body wasn't my body. When you – when nursing, in medical, it was like – I could see people, maneuvering my body, but I wasn't… there…"

"Yeah."

"Like being public property – again, again – which I know feels so – I mean how can… something so good remind me of something so bad? But I just… the way people want to touch him, wanted to touch me – how many times I've spread my legs this year I… the way people comment on everything I do, if I work too much or too little, the flood of emotion he makes me feel, I know I sound selfish, I know – I just – my body, I'd just gotten used to having a body… that was all mine…"

His voice was low, understanding, slow. "I know, sweetheart." _I know and I know why you'd be scared because seeing you so vulnerable scared the shit out of me, too… scared me too…_

"And that's why last night was so… _exquisite_ , you make me feel so – … I don't know what I'm saying… I didn't sleep, I just… my body, my sense of being a person who has a body that is only mine, it feels so… fragile… I feel like I was very naive."

"You? Naive?"

"In thinking that I could just – that nothing would have to change. With myself, or with us…"

"Yeah. Sorta – had that fantasy of just strapping a kid on our back for a while there, didn't we?"

"Han I – I didn't think I'd be giving up so much."

A long silence, and then: "Yeah I – I mean I never thought I'd – even have to consider givin' up – _you_."

"That's not something that you ever really––"

"Oh no. I really – ah. There was some. Disagreement about if you'd – if you were gonna make it out okay."

"Han…"

"I don't think you – don't think you understand. What it was like, just – watchin' you lie there, I… this going from us to just me, I… for a second there, it was like. Uh. Just. It was like he was – _my_ baby, for a second. I mean our kid, obviously, but I hadn't thought… and then it was like it never happened I – yeah. Surreal."

"I didn't realize…"

"Yeah no, I know. I just. I dunno, Lei, it's like something – happened in there, or whatever. An' we've just been stumbling around tryin' to figure out where we go from there or somethin'."

"Well, something did happen," she said almost in half-apology, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek softly. "We had a baby, Captain Solo."

"Sort of insane, still."

She smiled faintly. "Absolutely insane."

He was looking at her, closely, then: her flurry of wild hair, her marked up skin, her dark nipples and the lines across her stomach and the soft, warm affection in her eyes. And then he blinked and for a second she was glaring up at him, her hair braided tightly in a crown and her compact little body zipped up in a tight, white snowsuit, her eyes narrow with impatient righteousness, her perfect princess hands square on her hips. _Leia, Leia…_ And then the baby squirmed and she moved to soothe him and she flickered back, her features soft and weary and warm again. "Oh, you're growing bored of me, aren't you? Ma _ma_ , you are so _clingy…_ "

He chuckled a little, in spite of himself, and she grinned at him, wild and weary and vulnerable, raw – a sillier, more genuine smile than he could've imagined for so much of knowing her.

"That's right, clingy and smelly, how embarrassing… you want Daddy, don't you? You're thinking, Mama, you deserve a hot shower… you need some concealer..."

 _Daddy?_ he mouthed, raising his eyebrows teasingly, and she made a show of rolling her eyes and handed him the baby, who smiled at him, really smiled, delighted and pleased, happy to see him, recognizing him. The smile big enough that the pacifier slipped from his mouth, though luckily Leia was able to catch it.

"Yes, I know, I know. Daddy's _very_ handsome, he's a sight, we get it, keep your paci in your mouth, precious."

He bounced the baby a bit, patting his back and looking at her. General, princess, mother, lover… flickering in and out and back in, something cohesive, sum of Alderaanian affection and military prestige and _oh, Ben! Han he's – Ben, Ben…_ , a kind of grand unified theory of Leia, multitudes of strength and vulnerability, mumbling against him with her robe open, delirious and wanting her Mam, another kind of strong. "Take a bath, why dontcha? 'Stead of a shower? Can keep this one occupied for awhile." A new language of substitution and intuition and approximation and understanding, a new way to say _I love you_.

"Oh, no, I'd rather wait for you on that one," she said, sly and smiling a bit. "But thanks, Han. That's really sweet." A new way to say, _I know_.

 _#_

 _We're wrapping up soon, so I want to urge you to check out my other multichapter, Separate Together. It's a little more action based than this one. And please, please review – even just to say "liked it." It means the worl._


	11. 10: Liftoff

_A lighter, shorter chapter to bridge us into the last two events before our story wraps._

10: Liftoff

"Han?" Leia called with a strained voice over the sound of Ben's shrieking. She looked over at him, raising her eyebrows as she bounced the baby a bit more urgently, and Luke gave his sister a sympathetic look. She looked exhausted, there was no denying that, and the fact that Ben had been irater than Luke had ever seen his nephew surely had a whole lot to do with that. But there was also something strangely familiar about the quick rhythmic patting of the baby's back, almost like the way he'd seen her check the safety on a blaster or order a line of strikes – the epitome of Leia-ness, being an expert. Funny, maybe, that everything else he could think of that Leia was an expert at just happened to be part of the war-machine. But still. As she called out, "How much longer, do you think?" and made a show of rolling her eyes while moving to swoop Ben from side to side, she looked like – well. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

"J'second, sweetheart––!" Han, calling, then, plus Chewie roaring skeptically.

Leia made a peeved face, even though she knew as well as he did that Han was mostly just being paranoid about the baby flying for the first time and was checking everything over on the ship about a hundred times too many – or maybe _because_ of that fact, 'cause he supposed that kind of thing could be grating against a backdrop of endless hours of baby hysterics, when to Luke it was mostly just endearing.

But of course – it couldn't be easy for Leia, in general, given the occasion. Honestly, he could've forgotten that Endor would be their second stop, not their first, given how quiet she had been about their actual first destination. In fact, all she'd really said about it was to remind him to bring formal clothes.

Second destination: Endor, for the one-year anniversary of the destruction of the second Death Star. First destination: an Alderaanian refugee camp, for the sixth anniversary of the planet's destruction. Leia had asked them to accompany her, very quietly – the first time she'd done a visit for the anniversary, since it'd been full-on wartime the years before. There'd been so many years of him and Han and Chewie sitting with her through that date, trying to keep her occupied, that it only occurred to him this year that this was less than ideal – that ideally, she'd want to be with her people. The few of them that remained.

When she'd asked, his first thought, honestly, had been – _me, too?_ So much of Leia's life these days seemed segmented off, into her and Han – there was definitely a time when they'd been a threesome, a foursome, and even when Han and Leia were together before the baby it'd been like that, honestly, that is, he'd been there for Ben's birth and everything – but for four months they'd been so very much – their own thing. Their own little family.

But of course she was his sister, his sister who was Alderaanian – it was hard not to split sister-Leia and Alderaan-Leia into two separate people. When he'd talked to Chewie about it, the Wookiee had said he'd had a similar reaction. And, Leia had said, more casually than he know she felt out about it, _It'll be Ben's baby-naming, as well. It's traditional, for family to attend. I would so like to have you there – Chewie as well._ His nephew who was Alderaanian, too. Which meant the four of them – five of them – were back together on the Falcon for the first time in a long time, to support her.

"He's so neurotic," Leia murmured, and Ben, as if insulted on Han's behalf, shrieked louder.

"He's such a _dad_ ," Luke corrected, giving a half smile.

"What? Sorry, I can't hear, I – Ben-ben-ben, sh-sh-sh, come on, sh-sh-sh, I know-I know-I know…" Holding him tightly to her chest now and patting his back, her face screwed up in annoyance.

"I said he's such a _dad_ – here, let me try – Ben! Hey Ben, look over – peekaboo! Hey-hey-hey – peekaboo!"

Ben screamed louder, squirming angrily, but Leia gave a tired, amused grin. "He _loathes_ being condescend to – Ben, you loathe being condescended to, don't you, yes, yes, you're thinking, Uncle Luke, how could you think I would consider peekaboo at a time like this! Yes!" Catching his little fist as he screamed and giving it a shake. "How could you _possibly_ think I would _deign_ to consider peekaboo––"

"He still at it?" Han grumbled, shuffling into the cockpit and wiping his forehead with his arm.

"Naturally," Leia said with a harsh laugh, her voice unnaturally loud to be heard over Ben's cries. "He hasn't quit since… gods… Here, Luke, will you just – my nose is desensitized, I can't tell if he needs a change anymore––"

Luke blinked in surprise as Ben's wriggling, thrashing bottom was shoved by his face. "Um, he smells fine to me?"

"Right, that's what I thought – why am I second-guessing myself, honesty…"

Han groaned as he practically collapsed into his seat, Chewie close behind. "You try feeding him again or––?"

"Yes, that did occur to me once or twice," she retorted sharply, rolling her eyes and pacing the small span of the cockpit, which seemed to calm Ben a little bit.

" _What_ about that – the thing you were doing last night, with his gums…"

"Yes, but every time I touch something on this bucket of bolts I dirty my hands and I'm not about to stick my greasy dusty soiled fingers into his _mouth_."

"You know he's a Solo too, not just pure princess – got a strong system, little Falcon grease not gonna bring 'im down––"

"Han Solo he is a _baby!_ "

"Alright, alright, forget it!"

"He's been up all night, did you say?" Luke asked worriedly. "Lei, you want a break? I can walk with him––"

"Yes, _thank you_ , that'd be lovel––… oop, nope, uh-uh, that's okay, we'll just stick with Mama for now, uh-huh? All the time Mama, all night and all day, Mama-mama-mama, princesses don't take breaks – okay, Han, look – just – go through whatever pre-flight you can, we'll sit down just before, okay? Okay… we're okay, yes we are…"

"This one," Han grunted, pointing at Ben, "s'apparently teething, and this one––" indicating Leia now, "S'been up with nightmares, and those go back to _that_ one…"

"And _this_ one is so very eager to prove what a wonderful dad and husband he is, so…"

"So. Sleepless Solos – and Organa, and Organa, _Kriff_ ––"

"I didn't say a word… right Ben, did Mama say a word?"

"Yeah but I could see it all over your face – and I told you, I don't have a problem with it at all – Chewie, 've I _ever_ said I have a problem with the princess keeping Organa––"

"Oh yes – sleepless – yes Ben, oh yes – mhm, I know, I know – no sleep for us, nuh-uh, no sleep…"

"S'when she was talkin' about making _this one_ Organa that was I like––"

"I thought you were taking some meds for those nightmare, Leia," Luke interrupted over the rumble of the Falcon starting up, frowning.

"I am, but they're not – _quite_ strong enough anymore, for these, as it were," she confessed, continuing to pace with Ben and trying to soothe him after the sound startled him. "And fear is one thing but it's very difficult to medicate away grief…"

"Oh, Leia, I'm sorry…"

"It's fine – it's been difficult, of course, but it's fine. Ben, isn't that true? Isn't that true – we're fine, we're fine… our fathers do not need to suggest rubbing Corellian whiskey on our gums because we are _fine_ …"

"It was a joke!"

Leia turned to Luke, still pacing small circles, and gave him a look that could kill. " _It was not a joke."_

Han, then, punching up the usual series of flashing buttons: "Hey, Your Worship – 'bout time to buckle him in…"

"Surely we can wait another moment – sh-sh, we're comfortable here walking, yes we are, we're finally getting a bit comfort–– _Han!_ " Leia shrieked, grabbing onto the walls as they lurched.

"Said you should sit down…"

"Unbelievable," she muttered, but Luke could tell that she was smiling a little, even when Ben started to whimper and whine when she tried to wrangle him into his seat, her grip on the back of Han's chair tight as things got bumpier. And he wanted to smile, too – if only because this was so – _typical,_ they were being so typical, bickering in the Falcon, needling each other, this fussy little thing somehow fitting right into the picture as though it'd always been there. "Say _Captain, this is unbelievable…_ I know, I know, you don't have to tell me twice – I'm so angry, I'm so angry about my seat, I'm so angry that there ever was a Disaster such that I had to _be_ a seat – I know!" Watching her grimace when Ben spit out the pacifier she'd managed to find. "Ben, please, come on now…"

"Princess, c'you try to keep it down––"

"I'm sorry, are you the one wrangling the four-month-old? Go on, flyboy, are you waiting for something?"

"Can't think straight, don't wanna – fuckin'…"

 _[He's worried he can't fly perfectly with the baby screaming, and if he doesn't fly perfectly, he's worried the baby will keep screaming,]_ Chewie grumbled as clarification. _[Or worse – be scared.]_

"Han Solo you have flown this ship amidst ceaseless Imperial fire––!"

"Yeah, but I didn't have my kid on the thing then!"

"Ohhh, he's being sen-si-tive… Ben, can't you calm down and appreciate your da calling the Falcon a _thing_ and being sen-si-tive…"

Ben screamed louder in response, and Leia snickered.

"He doesn't seem to appreciate it," she quipped. "Han, you're fine – just go on, he'll tire himself out eventually."

"Fine, but I don't like it – Chewie _– punch it_."

The Wookiee roared a teasing, _[What was that?]_

"Oh, fuck off you big fuzzball – do it!"

It took a second for Luke to appreciate that as they jerked into a hyperspace, the ship had gone silent save for the roar of the engine. The baby had stopped screaming.

Luke looked over at his nephew in the seat wedged between his and Leia's – his eyes were wide, and he was waving a fist dreamily, cooing.

"Oh…" Leia said, noticing too, and she smiled a broad, tired smile. "Oh, yes – mhm, Ben, look! Look, I know, I know… yes, the lights, I know, I know, it's lovely!"

Ben clapped and laughed, and Leia laughed too.

"Yes! Yes, it's lovely – Han, dear, you need to – yes! Oh, you love it – yes, yes you do, of course you do, of course you'd love to fly…"

"S'that, sweetheart?"

"Han, here – take the baby, hold on," she said determinedly, going to unbuckle him.

"A little busy flyin' the ship here, princess…"

"You can do that with your eyes closed, just trust me… _here_ … yes, yes I know, you're very happy, mhm – here you go…"

She was holding out the baby a bit precariously and Luke could see Han make an anxious, annoyed face before taking him, setting him on his lap with his hand on his middle with a frown.

Ben waved his hand at the streaks of light and laughed again, then clapped happily. And Luke watched his friend notice, and break from a furrowed brow into a surprised grin. "Yeah, you like that? All the lights?"

He tickled the baby and Ben squealed with laughter again, bouncing happily.

"Yeah, I know the feeling – first time up in the air and all that… not like anything else, huh? You like that a whole lot, yeah?"

Luke looked over at Leia – she was smiling sleepily, leaning back in her seat with her knees drawn up, watching.

"Mhm. Tell you what," Han was muttering, "Can go up whenever you like, alright? As much as you want, whenever you wanna. M'always game."

Ben was snuggled against him now, sucking his thumb and looking wide-eyed at the whole galaxy outside the Falcon. Chewie was teasing Han mercilessly in rumbling roars, reaching out every so often to ruffle Ben's tiny fluff of hair. Han himself had his eyes trained on the sky, but a crooked half-smile playing n the corner of his mouth. And Leia, bless her really, had the same skeptical puckered expression as always on her face, but loosened her grip on her knees and quietly dozed off. And for the first time in a long time, Luke felt something simple radiating from this impossibly complicated crew: contentedness, and familiarity.

 _It's traditional, on Alderaan, for family to attend._

Of course they'd be there. Noisily, probably crash-landing, and with baggage in tow – but yes, of course they would.

XX.

"Relax," Han said, watching as Leia jerked from her seat on the bunk when she heard footsteps. "S'just me."

"Oh..." Leia said, exhaling and relaxing but setting the apparatus aside. "Sorry — when it's the baby I don't mind, really, but with the pump it just feels — like being walked in on in the fresher or something. I suppose because with the baby it's pastoral but without it's just — er, not very attractive."

"Well. Whatever gets the job done."

"Sure," she allowed, smiling faintly. "Though unfortunately I did need to make use of some space in the freezer, so much for the sanctity of the ship as un-babyified… where is Ben, anyway?"

"Spending some quality time with his uncles in the cockpit. Was told that I should get some sleep."

"Mm — he's staying settled?"

"Seems like it."

"He loved hyper, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Han said, smiling a little as he sat down beside her. "Somebody tell Luke, might have a pilot on her hands instead of a Jedi."

"I'll leave that one to you…" She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled sleepily up at him. "Hi."

"Hey there, sweetheart."

"What're you looking at?"

"Just – you."

"Well, I'm flattered."

"Thinkin' about you."

"Mm."

"Just – this time of year. I always just." He exhaled noisily, squeezing her shoulder. "I feel so damn sad for your, princess. Just…" He thought about the night before, how Ben had refused to let anyone hold him but her, screaming when she stopped massing his little gum lightly, but how she was post-nightmare and sweaty and crying, just holding the baby and trying to soothe him while crying… silent tears down her cheeks, she'd been screaming about her father, her real father Bail… he couldn't explain it, she wasn't hysterical or shoving him away, just _sad_ , not coping poorly, just – just really sad. Which happened, sometimes.

She'd just given him a what-can-you-do smile as she'd wept and soothed the baby and let him put a blanket around her and make her tea. Probably the most intimate moment of knowing her thus far: taking a tissue and holding it to her nose so she could blow. A visceral second of feeling really, really – _married._

She'd needed help and she'd let him give it to her. A year ago, she'd be freaking out in the 'fresher and sobbing _Don't come in, I'm fine, don't come in!_

He was – proud of her? Of them.

"I feel sad for me too," Leia said simply.

"You nervous?" She'd been rehearsing the speech she'd been delivering for the congregation for days.

"I don't know. Less so, I think, than I expected. I think I'm more nervous to see if they'll – remember me is the wrong word, but."

"Take you as one of them?"

"Yes. I mean – I've been… having a baby and shooting Imps and they've been – struggling for water. And Alderaanians don't shoot."

"You're one of them, Lei. You know that."

"And I also feel very tired. But I feel – I don't know. Clear. My head feels clear."

"Good," he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. "I love your head."

She snorted. "You love _head_."

"Alright, alright, easy Your Highness. Awfully – what's the word? _Crass._ "

"But not untrue…" she murmured, smirking a little, but it was playful. "I'm glad we're having sex again. I missed it."

Han choked a little. "I mean, yeah. Uh – same."

"But we have to be careful, you know… I don't know if I could do this again…"

"Hm," he said neutrally, squeezing her shoulder again.

"Or if so, not for some time, at least. There's time, anyway…"

"Uh, yeah. _Loads_ of time. Lemme tell ya, princess – you don't even know what's coming. You're gonna love your thirties and that's still how much away, another five years?"

Leia laughed, twisting away from him and lying down in their narrow bunk contentedly. "I'm going to love them, am I? Is that so?"

"M'loving mine. Met the girl of my dreams…"

"Ah, see, well, I met my husband when I was a teenager, so," she teased.

Han made a face. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"Hm?"

"Don't remind me I spent a year jerking off to fantasies about fucking a nineteen-year-old, _Kriff…_ " he groaned, stretching out on the bunk beside her.

She grinned broadly at him, propping herself up on an elbow. "You're quite the cliché, you know. Taking a much younger wife and knocking her up immediately."

" _Ugh…_ "

"I can't wait to hear all about what _forty_ is like next year…"

"Hey now, that's crossing a line," he growled, pinning her and kissing her neck as she laughed.

"Aren't we supposed to be sleeping?"

"I can think of some ways we can tire ourselves out…"

"Maybe you, old ma––Han! Stop it, stop it, I can't breathe!" she screamed as he tickled her, and as he smirked and kissed her soft skin and listened to her laughing Han was abruptly transported back ten months ago, lying here in the bunk beside her, kissing whatever of her skin was closest and tickling her, seeing her smile for the first time in a long time. And then how suddenly, she'd turned to him, smiling down at him in his spot with his lips by her breasts, and stroked his hair. And said breathlessly, "Han – what if we just – did it?"

"Hmm?" he'd mumbled, busying himself with the valley between her breasts.

"I mean what if we just – said fuck it, you know? I mean, what if I did – did, actually – have your child? This child."

He'd stared up at her from his spot, chin resting on her sternum, speechless. She'd told him maybe two weeks ago, and while nothing was certain there was a direction she'd seemed to be leaning in, and this certainly wasn't it…

"In seven months we would just – have a child, I'd just have your child, and we would have a baby, you and I – why don't we just do it?"

"Uh," he'd said slowly, clearing his throat, "I mean, you seemed to have – reservations..."

"I think we deserve some happiness, don't you? This war is ending, we've given it everything, surely we're owed one by now – surely we can be happy, we deserve to be happy. Surely we can do something as mundane as—"

"Mundane?"

"I want to have your child. This child. I've deserved that, to be happy with the person I love… is that alright with you, Han?"

He stared up at her, wide-eyed, taking in her gorgeous tousled tresses and her flushed cheeks and her shining, determined, mind-made-up eyes. " _You_ – want to have _my_ – baby," he echoed. _You think a princess and guy like me…?_

"Well this specific baby, here — I know we can't feel anything but..." She took his hand and held it over her warm, flat abdomen. "We can do anything, Han. They can't take anything away from us anymore unless we let them."

He'd stroked her stomach with his thumb. "Sure," he'd said, laughing a little. "Sure, Okay. Why not?"

"Exactly," she'd said, echoing back words she – politician, practical, planner, pragmatic – had probably never said before. "Why not?" And the she'd kissed him harder than ever, practically jumping on him and smiling and laughing.

"Who are you and what have you done with my princess, huh?" he'd teased.

"I love you," she was saying, kissing him all over. "And no one can ever compel me to give that up, ever again. I love you, I love you, I love you!"

And yes there were moments – a lot of moments – during the following months where she'd lost that eagerness… every time a diplomat treated her like shit, every time she could feel a mentor's judgement, every time a military doctor shrugged helplessly, poked around inside her and said _we'll have to figure it out together when the time comes_ , every time they fought, the two of them, shouting for long hours and then fucking it away afterwards, about her going off on this mission or that, doing this training or that – _I think you like it this way, don't you! Telling me I can't run, that I ought to stay put! Isn't this how you've always wanted me! Knowing my place!_ Taking her hard and growling _this is where I want you, this is how I want you right now…_

And he still couldn't think about those horrible moments just before and after the baby was born. Before when she was holding both of his hands and leaning in very close and saying to him very seriously, muffled by the oxygen mask – _I cannot do it, I can't, I can't Han, tell them I have to stop!_ Afterwards when she was mostly just mumbles, when folks came to see her and he had to turn them away, but he couldn't turn away.

But still – that girl, two months from Endor, telling him _Fuck it, fuck it!_ Having never said anything sexier – _I want to have your child._ Here she was, now – laughing a little, her hair messy, rings under her eyes, but happy. Crying in the night still, but handling it. They were going to handle it.

"I love you," she was saying now, kissing his cheek. "But I really do want to try to sleep some."

"Yeah," he said. For the first time in a long time, he felt okay about shutting his eyes and letting his own guard down, too. "Yeah, let's do it."

#

 _Just a nice short bridge chapter… there are two more (which are much more eventful) after this one and then we're all done._


	12. 11: Landing

_After much delay – our last chapter._

11: Landing

The tiny temple of the little settlement was pale, Leia noticed. The wood was pale — an almost snowy hue, like the skinny trees that grew here. Nothing like home, where every tree had to be a hero, thick rooted things to withstand the weight of snow and ice, where what was carved from wood was always dark or stained dark, rich chocolatey hues designed to warm you up just by looking at them. Carvings everywhere, and how Leia had loved that as a toddler, being able to hold a story in her little grip — then older and mischievous, carving her name into the bottom of her bed. These were driftwood trees, Leia thought, flimsy pale things, poles rather than anchors, what would happen to all that culture? What would shelter the motley assortment of refugees here, the poorest citizens mixed in with the wealthiest, distinction long gone in favor of the unifying weight of loss...

She looked at the pale church and felt a burst of the feeling, lingering within her again even though it controlled her less each passing day. The feeling of _I could've done more I should do more there's something I should be doing_. A terrible dread that had a concrete chemical composition: deep sadness wrapped up tight in manic, panicked anxiety. Once the sadness was everywhere; now the compound was shifting to favor anxiety. Dread. She still felt it, often, nibbling around her ears — there's something else you should be doing, there's somewhere else you should be. An unscratchable itch. Maybe the reason the temple made her so sad was it pointed to how she might have scratched it. The itch that pinched her arms and sent her spine into spasms whenever she was doing the long busywork of taking care of another human being: nursing and burping and changing and bathing and playing and putting down and getting up. Even in her most blissful moments, lying in her bed and holding the baby close so they were bare skin to bare skin, Ben clutching her hair as he slept, watching his belly rise and fall through lidded eyes — the itch. Shouldn't you? It worked both ways. Answering messages and trying to work from home while Ben whimpered for her attention, listening to Han try to cajole Ben into accepting a bottle in the middle of the night when she knew he'd instantly relax in her arms — shouldn't you?

If she'd been more attentive she would've — had wood imported? Stained? Found another planet altogether? Kept Alderaan from meeting it's own private apocalypse at all? She would've made it better. There was alway more she could do.

(Of course she knew all these thoughts were totally irrational. And yet...)

All these thoughts flashing through Leia's mind in a single moment, glancing at the temple's exterior on her way out. She felt a bit sorry to have abandoned Han inside in the middle of the service — he was hardly the religious type, to say nothing of the fact that he didn't speak the language — but selfishly she relished in the chance for fresh air and, yes, to escape her sense of unfamiliarity in the makeshift room. Leia had once asked her mother, do you feel like their queen? And her mother had said it was like feeling like everyone's most understanding, sympathetic auntie — never quite knowing what was up with your schoolwork but eager to hear all you'd grown. But sitting in the room of ostensibly her people (her people and a few political types eager for good press and her ragtag family) she felt — well. She didn't quite feel like their princess anymore. Alderaan — sometimes it felt like another time. She felt no better than the rest of them, not an auntie but a cousin, also awkward at dinner, never knowing what to say, never sure what you had in common beyond the promise of blood. This place wasn't Alderaan — it was a new place that had been built without her, and she wasn't its monarch. And that was okay — she wanted her diaspora to have something new, something green, something that recognized what they'd been through and honored that — but she felt — like a stranger. So she was eager to get some air. Plus Ben was fussing, anyway. It had been perfectly ordinary, that she'd taken the baby and politely slipped out of the pew. A perfect non-existential excuse.

"Shush shush," Leia murmured, patting Ben's back and taking a final look at the temple. She let her gaze sweep over the beachy field behind it, where grass became scrub became sand into a pond. That too, new — small, green bodies of water rather than Alderaan's sweeping ice blue lakes. Under one of the skinny trees s little hub of women, girls really, maybe her age, sitting on blankets with babies — little toddlers running around. Leia sucked in a breath. And moved to another skinny tree casting its own shadow.

Ben was really whining by now, so she settled down, her borrowed black dress's heavy, forgiving skirt billowing out around her. She'd fashioned herself a black lace veil and she fixed that too, pulling it over those old buns on either side of her head. Winding them up this morning had been so surreal as well – her hands almost didn't know the strokes. _What d'you think, junior?_ Han had asked the baby, bopping him up and down and grinning. _You think your mama looks good with those princess ear muffs? Cute as the day I met her._ But it felt a little bit like how on the way to Yavin she'd showered on the Falcon only to have to step back into that same – albeit laundered a bit – dress. Like stepping into an artifact, a dress in a museum. An ancient hairstyle from another time. She was just unbuttoning the front of her dress, shushing and poking away Ben's insistent fingers pawing at her chest impatiently, when she heard a high, accented voice, "Hello!"

Leia gave a smile and nod of acknowledgement in the direction of the group at the other tree.

"Come on over here!"

She lifted her chin and gave a small shake of her head.

"Hello there! Come over here! Don't be shy!" the woman called.

There was a Leia she knew of polite declines – of privacy and solitude, of being on her own. (Never shy, of course, but she could understand the conflation of the two.) This Leis, though. Despite all that dread… There was something within her, something new – fuzzier, around the edges, her barriers just a little less impermeable. So for some reason, she took her tote in one hand, Ben on her other hip, and walked in the sparse grass to the clump of women in the shade.

There were five of them, there – five young women, maybe nineteen to a little older than Leia – really lovely young women, sweet, with broad, tan faces like her mother's. Braids – such beautiful, delicate, intricate braids – ribbons – she'd seen women of course, inside the temple, but something about – something about this small, happy collection of young women – with _fashion_ , Alderaanian _fashion_ – genuinely expressing their personalities – Alderaanian – beautiful, unique – and such pretty, pretty, intricate veils…

"There you go," one of the women said, deftly braiding the hair of the toddler on her knees. "There's no need to sit all off on your own."

"I didn't mean to be so anti-social," Leia said politely as she went to sit down, "I just didn't want to intrude on anything."

"Oh, no shoes!" the girl closest to her admonished. "The quilts are delicate on this side."

"Their delicate construction an intentional choice to provide a reason to take one's shoes off, no doubt," the toddler-braiding woman noted wryly.

"Understood," Leia said, giving another small, polite smile. "Would someone mind…?"

" _I'll_ hold him, there you go," the closest girl said, smiling and reaching up to take Ben so Leia could unbuckle her shoes. "Oh, he's so _sweet_ ," she said, smiling again and bouncing him. "Yes, aren't you the sweetest thing?" Ben whined and pawed at the front of her dress, and Leia winced, but the just girl just laughed. "I think you might be hungry, mon chou," she teased, tapping his nose and letting him cling to her finger, then her long dark braid when he lunged forward anxiously.

"Thank you," Leia said sincerely, again so polite, taking Ben from her. She didn't want to be awkward but she couldn't help it – gods, how long had it been, since she'd really spent time with women her own age? Since before the Senate, at least. Before any of this.

"I think you're right, Dina, I think it was intentional."

"Quintessentially Alderaanian, a gentle and aesthetic nudge towards relaxation," the woman concurred.

"The sandy grass feels nice between your toes," one of the women offered. "Not like home, but…"

The other women murmured in agreement, and their voices chimed together quickly. Leia kept her head ducked as she unbuttoned the front of her dress, murmuring to Ben and faux-admonishing him softly before situating him at her breast. She clung to every word – the way they understood each other, the shared experience, the cultural touchstones…

"At least it's nice and cool out here. It's so stuffy inside the temple. You'd think there'd be some poor Alderaanian air conditioning mechanic on business off-world and yet…"

"Oh stop it, that's awful!"

"Me and my cultural anthropology degree, what is that going to build a new colony?"

"Self-awareness, maybe?"

"Please, I for one am so self-aware I could die of embarrassment at myself..."

"My mother used to say she felt closest to the goddess when she was outside, not at temple. We lived by one of the great lakes? I got it in my head that the goddess _was_ the lake when I was little I used to kneel for my prayers at night facing the window that faced the lake."

"I'd give anything to the goddess to plunge into that cool clear lake water again. Ice and all."

"Me as well. One great early morning plunge. Anything."

Leia felt something unwinding within her, a knot she didn't know was tied so tight – these were _people_ , they were _talking_ , about _being_ , about everything – women her age who were _like_ her, who were _people_ – not just civilians or else recruits or else commanders or else, else, else – when was the last time she'd participated in everyday life?

"I always thought that would be where I'd teach my children to swim," Leia offered after a moment of hesitation. There were nods, and she continued more confidently, "It was the perfect place to learn, because of how clear it was – so much of fear, I think, as a child – it's all about the unknown – being able to see everything, every fish, every stone – it felt _conquerable_. Whereas these murky depths… With all due respect," she added quickly.

"No, I hear you, it feels like a great unknown – very murky, absolutely."

"Just like the future, perhaps?" the woman with the toddler noted wryly. "Going from crystal clear to opaque…"

"How very poetic of you," Leia noted, grinning.

"That's the national pastime after all," she replied just a swiftly, winking.

"Your son is so adorable, I could just eat him," interrupted the girl who'd held Ben. "Are you visiting from off-world from Remembrance? I don't think I've seen you around here."

"Oh – ah, yes," Leia said politely. _Technically true_.

"That's really nice – so is Dina over there," she said, indicating the woman with the braided toddler, who was delivering very serious, particular if garbled by babytalk instructions on the styling of her hair to her mother. "Dina got in yesterday, right? I've heard it's hard to get all the way out here… not like there's much commercial travel headed this way."

"My husband has his own ship," Leia said, ducking her head slightly and giving another polite smile, busying herself with Ben. "We're very fortunate."

"As long as you know it," the girl teased good-naturedly. "I'm Aimee, by the way – long overdo, should've lead with that – those two are mine, the twin boy and girl, Prestin and Breha," she said, shaking a rattling toy as she indicated two babies scooting on the blankets, one of them giggling and lunging for the toy. The rest of the women introduced themselves, indicating their motley collection of children under three scattered in laps and toddling in the grass.

"I don't think we actually got your name," Dina pointed out.

Leia took a small breath. "Leia," she said, immediately but surreptitiously checking for reactions.

They didn't come. "Oh, Rini just named her new little one after Princess Leia, too," Aimee said brightly.

Rini sure enough indicated the hooded basket beside her, pushing back the top bit to reveal a teeny-tiny newborn in a pink cap, swaddled tight, sleeping. _Another Leia_. "She's just three weeks old, if you can believe it," Rini confessed. "I haven't been out of the house in ages – but it'll be her babynaming, so. We rallied."

"She's very beautiful," Leia said seriously. "You must be exhausted."

"I am," she said simply. "I can't believe I'm _passing_ as a person right now. I feel terrible, my emotions are out of whack, my breasts hurt, I still ache, I haven't slept since who knows when – but it felt important."

"Good for you," Leia said. _I feel terrible, my emotions, my breasts…_ things she knew were normal and yet it was one thing to know and another thing to _hear_ …

"It gets better!" one of the women volunteered.

Dina snorted. "It gets _different_ ," she corrected.

"What's your son called?" Aimee asked.

Another quick breath. "Ben," Leia said, trying to be offhanded as she moved him to her other breast.

"Wait that's too funny, your name is Leia and you named your son Ben, you have to admit that's a little freaky––!" Aimee began, before stopping abruptly based off of the stunned, silent reactions of others.

"Agh," Leia said, trying for an awkward smile. "I suppose the pittin's out of the bag, then. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I can't believe I didn't…" one of the women, Cora began, trailing off. "I guess I heard you would – Your Highness – but I didn't think…"

"You mustn't call me that anymore, please just – call me by my given name," Leia said. "Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable."

"You look – different," Rini said slowly. "Not – I just mean – you look so much older. Leia," she added, as if testing it out. "You look…"

"Unrecognizable?" Leia tried, giving a sad half-smile.

"Maybe it's not even older, I think it's more – when you're remembering something so long that it's just a memory, in your head, such that – the real thing never really looks quite like you…" She trailed off again, brushing a hand over the basket beside her. "You're – I mean she's – you're the _real_ Leia."

"She's a real Leia," Leia noted, nodding at the baby as well.

"How – _are_ you?" another woman, Amara, asked, peering at her. "I mean – are you – _okay?_ It's been – I mean we've had news but it's been – subsistence, here – we haven't really – I mean of course we knew you had the baby but – are you…?"

"I'm okay," Leia said, nodding, her head swimming in the surrealness of it – they were asking _her_ if she was okay? When she'd spent everything fighting for _them_ – and they wanted to know if _she_ – she was the _least important_ , of anyone – she'd been through the _least_ – they'd…

"Thank the goddess you said something when you did, because the next topic of conversation I was going to bring up was if anyone had gotten a good glimpse of Captain Solo!" Aimee realized, covering her mouth with her hand.

Leia flushed. "I'm very fortunate," she said simply, echoing herself, and flushed further as the conversation collapsed into scandalized and shocked laughter.

"It's really you," Dina said in wonder after they'd finally gotten control of themselves. "It's a bit like meeting myth itself – it's hard to believe."

"Sometimes it's hard for me to believe as well," Leia said. "I – suppose I haven't felt like me in a long time – or I – suppose I feel like a different kind of me…"

"Of course you must," Rini said urgently. "How could you not?"

"This isn't – sorry, this isn't supposed to be – therapy with your – former heir to the throne, I didn't want––"

"I always thought you seemed really nice," Amara said thoughtfully. "You still seem nice."

Leia laughed. "I don't think anyone's ever called me nice in my entire life. Certainly not since the Disaster. Hardened, harpy maybe – never nice."

Amara shrugged. "You seem nice to me. You know. Decent. That sounds – that came out wrong, but – you seem like a good person, is what I mean."

"You – I…" Leia stopped herself. _You seem like a good person. You seem nice. You seem decent._ Willed herself to let those words soak into her skin, these women whose lives she'd abrupted… "Thank you."

"I wonder if Ben knows," Aimee teased. "Does he know his mam is Princess Leia? Sorry – just Leia. And if not, when?"

"He'll know you're his mam, that's what's important to them," Cora said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

"I think there's a balance," Dina said, shaking her head. "He may not know she's _Princess Leia_. At least not at first. But – I don't know, being a good leader, believing in justice and fairness, caring for people – he'll know that about her. Beyond just mama. And a lot of that is, of course, what renders you – _Princess Leia_."

"They see you as partial-people, then?" Leia quipped. "Eventually, that is."

"Eventually, sure," Cora said.

"And you start to see yourself as one?"

"I think so," Dina said seriously. "Because you are a person – naturally, right, it seems so obvious, and yet – hard to remember. Just – hmm. It's like how at the end of pregnancy, when your center of gravity shifts. Interacting with the world from a slightly different weight, different angle – but not wholly transformed…"

"Binary star system," Rini decided. "Sort of – circling around each other forever. But on independent paths… but interlocked… holding to each other…"

"That's how I feel about my partner," Amara noted. "And then when the baby came – like a third sort of cosmic occurrence?"

"But you're still a star," Dina said. "Like not a moon or some secondary spatial object…"

"Well isn't that just love then?" Leia pointed out. "I mean the elaborate metaphor is helpful, but that's just – love, and commitment. I mean when I was first married I felt – different, I suppose, more ellipsoidal maybe. Like my trajectory was modified by something else pulling me in, to keep with it. And then with Ben – way out of… I mean way out…"

"There can be highly ellipsoidal patterns of orbit––" Rini began, but Dina stopped her.

"You know how, when you were young, you learned the difference between a human and person?" Dina said. "Like you always assumed those two things were one and the same, and then you met your first non-human sentient as a child, and they were a _person_ , and you had to radically re-orient your interpretation of what _person_ meant? Because you realized there were many more ways of being a person than you'd ever imagined?"

"Yes," Leia said.

"Okay, extend the metaphor – human is to the childless Princess Leia as person is to being Princess Leia. Sort of like how human was to the Alderaanian Senator Princess Leia as person is to being Princess Leia – _I contain multitudes_. That'swhat becoming a mother is like," Dina said definitively, and she _almost_ understood. "Trust me. You'll see."

She was just about to reply when a familiar voice made itself known behind her, a hand going to brush over her shoulder. "Hey," Han said, squatting a bit awkwardly. "Er – sorry to interrupt." He gave a small wave of acknowledgement to the group, they grinned between themselves.

Leia whipped around. "Hi," she said, surprised.

"Don't remember 'em perfectly but I'm pretty sure the vows covered not abandoning me in a stuffy old church," he said.

"Is that so," Leia said, rolling her eyes.

"Wanted to see if you were okay." He frowned at her. "So. You okay?"

"I'm fine. You worry far too much," she said, adjusting Ben, now standing on her thighs and clinging to her veil, so he was sitting in her lap.

"Not like you to take a while with anything," he retorted.

"I serve at the pleasure of your son, sir," she quipped.

"And she made friends!" Aimee called out, only to be shushed into another fit of laughter.

"Friends. You," he deadpanned, faux-skeptical, eyebrows high.

"It's almost like I'm beginning to have a stable sense of self," Leia said, smirking.

"Sounds good to me. Well, I'll leave you to it."

"No, actually – here, hold on," she said, getting to her feet. "I'll be back in a minute," she said to the group, before turning back to Han. "There's no reason for you to head right back in when you've just gotten cooled down."

"Fair enough."

"Walk with me a bit," she said, ducking out of her veil and waiting while he took off his shoes and socks, discarding them beside hers. She handed him the baby, and he held him in one arm, his other hand holding hers as they walked along the damp shore of the lake. The only sounds, after a while, the quiet lapping of the water and Ben's coos every so often, the sound of Han kissing the top of Ben's head and murmuring his agreement to any and all babble.

"Something you wanna tell me, princess?" Han asked after a while.

"Why?" she asked, swinging their clasped hands slightly, impulsively.

He shrugged.

"I have no more secrets to share," she promised. "I just – thought we'd enjoy the fresh air for a moment. We can go back though."

"Nah, let's stay."

They were silent for a long while, and then she asked abruptly, "Han? Are you happy?"

"Sure I'm happy," he said, squinting at her. "Why?"

"Just curious, I suppose."

"Do I not seem happy to you?"

"It isn't that deep – it's more existential. Ah – it's not a trap," she clarified.

He nodded, frowning. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, not every minute. Not every day. But on the whole…" He furrowed his brow, then nodded. "Yeah, I'd say so." Then nudged her with his hip and grinned. "Got a legal contract forcing you to hang out with me, so that's a perk."

"Because I'm such a joy to spend time with," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You are," Han said, shrugging again and squinting at the horizon. "To me at least. I don't know – I like being married to you." Another contemplative frown. "Not every minute, not every day. Sure as hell feels like the hardest thing I've done sometimes…"

"When I was in critical condition," Leia observed, remembering what he'd said earlier. "And you thought I might not pull through, and it'd be you and Ben alone."

"Sure, that too – and a few weeks back, some of those days. When you were just, y'know. What's the – like – sad, out of it."

"Despondent?" she whispered.

"Sure. Despondent," he said, then shook his head. "I don't like seeing you suffer. And I damn well don't like it when you won't let me do a thing about it. Or when I can't."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean––"

"Knock it off, don't apologize for anything. S'not even – I don't care if you get sad sometimes, Leia," he said seriously, looking at her. "Er – I mean I _care_ , but I don't _mind_. Everyone gets sad and you've been through more than 'everyone.' I just don't like feeling helpless about it."

"I didn't mean to get sad, is what I meant," she finished in a soft voice. "I don't – sometimes I don't even know – didn't even know – what I was sad about."

"Sure you do. Bunch of stuff from the whole war you kept back, identity stuff, post-pregnancy hormones––"

"Oh, not that again," she interjected quickly on the last one.

"I don't know why you're still so ashamed of all that – it's _real_ , it was – is, whichever – a _real_ thing – you made a person in your _body_ – your doctor said it was real, the post-partum depression thing is a real thing, I read––"

"Oh you've _read_ about it," she said lightly.

"Just – you had a real experience. I don't know why you think that it makes anyone respect you less. Doesn't make _me_ respect you less. If anything, probably makes me respect you more. Don't think I could do what you do."

"I just – ah – baby blues, it's all – it feels so _common_."

"Common," he echoed sarcastically, scoffing. "Seriously, Your Worship? Too run-of-the-mill for ya?"

"Of all the things I have to break down about, is what I mean," she clarified hastily. "Of all the things to send me spiraling and make me so – brittle and fragile, so – destabilized, about _myself_ … there are more potent identity crises looming in my past, you know."

"I know," he said, shrugging. "But maybe that's why this one hit hard. 'Cause it hit you where you least expected."

"It's just – it's so complicated, it all feels so incredibly trite – like these three minds, I'm of three minds – the first voice wants to get back to working full-time immediately, the second voice timidly fears she might appreciate staying part-time a bit longer, the first voice thinks the second voice is a total sap and the reason for why no one takes me seriously anymore, and the third – well. The third is livid that I'm even agonizing over such ridiculous quandaries like _being a working mother_ when there are mothers who can't even _feed_ their children – it all feels terribly indulgent – the voice that lights up and coo enthusiastically and wants to call you when Ben reaches for the right toy, the other voice berating me for being reduced to someone who thinks her infant grabbing a ring is the highlight of her entire day, the other still reminding me that the question is so irrelevant and trivial – this whole – agonizing psychic pain about who I am feels so disgustingly trivial – especially _today_ …"

She trailed off, wiping her eyes a bit, and they stood in silence for a moment. Then Han said, "I don't think it's trivial. Alright?"

"Obviously you're going to say that, but––"

"I'm not finished yet. Listen to me. For what it's worth? I think it's all consistent."

"Excuse me?"

"It's consistent, Leia, it's fucking consistent – it's who you are – you're a good mom _because_ of who you were beforehand, not in spite of – you _care_ about people, like no one else I know. You may not express it by being sweet and sugary but that's what I _like_ about you, you're not fake. You care about people and you do right by them. And you've been killing yourself trying to do right by the galaxy and by Ben and I know it's gonna be hard to find the right balance but at least freak out about the balance. Don't freak out about who you are to be making those choices. You're just – _you_."

"I don't feel like me, though," she said. "That's the whole – that's the _issue_ , I don't _feel_ ––"

"You don't _feel_ like who you think you're _supposed_ to be. Same as always, business as usual – telling me to stay on Hoth because I'm such a good pilot, not 'cause of how you feel. When are you gonna let go of Mythic Princess Leia, Martyred Hope Of The Galaxy and just let yourself just be _you_?"

He was a little startled, she could tell, when she through her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, her rushing weight almost sending him stumbling back.

"Hey, easy there princess, got innocent eyes over here," he joked, shifting his grasp on Ben.

"How do you always know just the right thing to say?" she asked breathlessly. "How can you always take everything that's so complicated inside of my head and just make it so simple?"

"I'm flattered, sweetheart," he said cheekily.

"Ask me back," she said. "I know you want to, I know you're nervous of the answer. Ask me back. If I'm happy, would you––"

He looked straight into her eyes, serious, piercing. "Are you happy, Leia?"

She took his hand in both of hers and kissed the baby's hair before answering, look back at him confidently and smiling, "Not every minute. Not every day. But on the whole – existentially, broadly, cosmically – yes," she promised, squeezing his hand tightly and realizing as she said it how true it was. "Very much so."

 _#_

 _Thanks so much to everyone who hung in there waiting for this last chapter. There may be a teensy epilogue… it's written, I'm just not sure if it's necessary. We'll see!_


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